Shackle Bound
by Bishoppe
Summary: Hawke accidentally travels to the past into the dangerous world of Tevinter, where she is captured by the abusive and ruthless magister Danarius. He torments her, taking away her voice, her smile, and her laugh. Thanks to a certain elven slave, however, there is one thing he did not take from her. Hope. AU Fenris x F!Hawke. Rated for abuse.
1. Freedom Awaits

**SHACKLE BOUND**

Summary: Hawke tampers with Merrill's eluvian one day and is magically transported back to the past, much to her horror and confusion. What happens when she finds out she'd been transported to Danarius' mansion, where a certain elven slave is held? Slightly AU.

Rated: M for disturbing content.

Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort

Fenris x Hawke

Hello everyone (: Welcome to 'Shackle Bound'! This is a story about Hawke being sent to the past, where she is forced into apprenticeship by Danarius, Fenris' ex-master. This story tells of Hawke's struggles and battles in the strange world of Tevinter all while building a fragile, yet tender relationship with the still-enslaved Fenris.

**Note: This fic disregards the events from Witch Hunt concerning the Eluvian.**

Takes place in the beginning of Act II. **MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD.**

Enjoy!

"Words."

'_Thoughts, dreams, memories, emphasis.'_

* * *

><p>Hawke fidgeted apprehensively, watching Merrill carefully and intricately weave the arulin'holm into the ten-foot tall mirror before her. Her mouth was set in a tight line, deeply concentrated on every detail, every crevice of the mirror. It was almost hard to believe that anything could go wrong, with the care that Merrill was giving towards repairing the eluvian, but Hawke refused to give the elf the benefit of the doubt. Hawke didn't trust Merrill enough with the mirror, knowing the kind of dark past it had, and knowing Merrill's habitual tendency to be ditzy. Merrill insisted that all the taint from it was gone, but Hawke decided to stay and keep watch, just to make sure Merrill didn't set her house on fire.<p>

"What is this thing supposed to do again, anyhow?" asked Hawke, yawning tiredly. She had been lying back, propped up against a few pillows, watching the standing Merrill work restlessly for over three hours. Her bones ached to be stretched. She eyed her staff standing against the wall along with Merrill's near the doorway, longing to go out and practice on a few bandits or raiders or something. She had never been one for patience.

"I told you, remember? Long-distance communication, Hawke," stated Merrill," I think they may have been used to teleport between cities once, though. Whatever the function, I want to finish repairing it so I can unlock our secrets and history!"

Hawke wished that she shared Merrill's enthusiasm, and began to tune out her babbling friend as Merrill continued on chattering about its origins and telling Hawke yet again how the mirror killed her friend Tamlen long ago. Hawke stared up at the giant mirror and scrunched her nose. The structure was very tall, but very slim, with large, heavy ornaments decorating the sides and front. The reflective side of the mirror was cracked. Who could possibly have the patience for such a contraption?

Then again, Merrill was… _special._

"What if this thing doesn't do anything? It doesn't look like anything special," commented Hawke.

"Oh, you just don't have any appreciation for elven culture, Hawke," pouted Merrill, her eyes not moving away for a second away from the eluvian. Hawke frowned in protest.

"I do too! I just don't get the point, Merrill. Is this really absolutely necessary for you to spend days poring over? I think you should take a small break, at the very least. The eluvian can wait, you know."

To Hawke's surprise, Merrill paused, then put down the arulin'holm onto the floor and turned to Hawke, nodding her head.

"I am feeling a wee bit drowsy," she said, stretching, "I'll just step outside for a moment and grab a bite to eat from Lyla's. Want anything, Hawke?"

"Just some sweetrolls, thanks," smiled Hawke, and then added quickly," I'll pay you back." Hawke knew that Merrill never had much money.

She smiled at Hawke appreciatively, then skipped out of the main room, and finally exited the house. Hawke stood still, listening to the door shut loudly behind her, before sighing loudly. Good God, she was exhausted. Deciding to stretch for a bit and release some tension, she stood up and reached for the stars, yawning all the while. Satisfied, she began to pace the room, waiting for Merrill to return.

She wondered if Fenris was back at the mansion yet. He said he'd be gone the entire day, working as a bodyguard for the viscount, so she wouldn't be able to see him the entire day, and now it was close to dusk. She couldn't deny that they had something between them, even if she didn't wish to admit it. The thought of him, however, made her smile.

As she walked back and forth, Hawke's eyes caught sight of something odd. The eluvian stood proud and tall, roughly repaired, with several small cracks on the mirror itself and on the ornaments that framed the mirror. However, at the top of a mirror, a small scratch embedded deep within the mirror stood out. That was not the odd thing, however. Dark red blood was steadily seeping out from the crack, and the small droplet began to run down the reflective side of the mirror.

'_What the...?_' thought Hawke with a frown on her face. Was the mirror supposed to do this?

Hawke wondered whether she should simply wait or run for Merrill. Leaving Merrill's house unattended seemed unwise, Hawke knew, in case anything happened with the eluvian while she was gone. Thus Hawke decided to stay.

Trying to ignore the disturbingly increasing amounts of blood that made its way down the mirror, Hawke returned to pacing the room. She kept looking over at the mirror, her curiosity inflating with each glance.

_'Why is that thing bleeding? Does the arulin'holm have anything to do with this?_' wondered Hawke, who had stopped pacing. Her curiosity getting the better of her, she gingerly approached the mirror, and inspected the scratch in the mirror. It continued to gush blood in copious amounts, running down the mirror in dark rivulets.

Hawke cautiously lifted her finger to where the cut was, and slowly placed it inside the scratch, stepping on her tippy toes to reach the mirror top, and stopping the flow of blood completely from running. Hawke felt more at ease now; the sight of the mirror bleeding made her rather queasy.

She let out a breath of release, not knowing if what she was doing was wise or not, but feeling calmed for the moment.

As the minutes passed, however, her finger soon began to ache from the pressure she was placing on the cut, and she looked for something else to put in its place. She looked down, where the arulin'holm was lying down on the ground. Momentarily lifting her finger from the scratch, Hawke bent down to pick up the tool in hand, and raised the blunt end of it to the scratch in the mirror, and then clogged the cut once more, stopping the blood from flowing down.

Suddenly, as soon as the arulin'holm touched the mirror's surface, the reflective side of the mirror disappeared, leading into an unending, dark abyss.

Hawke stared in shock, her mouth wide open, quickly dropping the arulin'holm. She had no time to react, however, as a dreadful wind began to pick up, sucking everything into the abyss of the mirror.

"What the hell…? Ahhh!" Hawke screamed, but her cries were overpowered by the deafening howl of the wind.

She fell into the mirror rapidly, her limbs flying in every direction possible, feeling the wind tear her apart as it tossed and turned her inside the abyss.

* * *

><p>"Hawke? Hawke!" called Merrill cheerily, carrying a few sweetrolls in her hands. She looked side to side, trying to find her friend. Frowning, Merrill looked inside the room with her Eluvian, wondering where on earth Hawke went to. The sight that greeted her made her gasp and drop her sweetrolls.<p>

The eluvian's reflective side was completely gone. All that remained was simply the ornaments that shaped the mirror. Merrill could simply step into the mirror frame and come out the other side. The arulin'holm lay flat down on the ground, a few feet away from where Merrill originally placed it.

What shocked Merrill most, however, were the drops of blood lying on the ground directly in front of the mirror. Tiny rivulets ran down the bottoms and sides of the mirror, giving it a ghostly and menacing look. Hawke herself was nowhere to be found.

This worried Merrill.

What could have happened to Hawke?

'_I… I have to get the Keeper…_' thought Merrill urgently. She stepped back cautiously, away from the mirror, taking one more glance before breaking out into a run to the outside, running as fast as her skinny legs would carry her. She hoped that the Keeper would have answers to this bizarre occurrence.

* * *

><p>She couldn't feel her feet.<p>

'_Uunngh… where the hell am I…?'_ thought Hawke wearily. Her head felt dizzy and swollen, while her body, on the other hand, was completely numb. She struggled to force her eyes open, finding herself caged in darkness's frightening grasp. Her hands flailed about, trying to familiarize with her surroundings.

The first thing she knew was that she was lying down on something soft and warm, like fur. Her sore body settled into it amiably, but she was still tense to find out where she was. Finally, after the initial shock wore off, her eyes finally opened. Her blurry vision allowed her limited sight. Her chest rose and fell with shakiness, and her mind blanked.

Hawke saw lights. Expensive, bright lights with lampshades made of marble hanging from the pure white ceiling, with intricate designs on them, each telling a story. Soon she realized that she was lying down horizontally, and she scrambled to her knees, taking in her surroundings.

She was in a bedroom. A very _rich_ bedroom, painted snow white from floor to ceiling. A long, soft carpet made of white fur kissed the floor, covering the entire area of the bedroom. Windows made of cut glass were stamped across the walls of the room, illuminating the room with a soft, dim glow, and a king sized bed sat behind a small set of mini stairs, leading up to the bed. A white cabinet and a small coffee table sat on either side of the bed on the elevated floor. Hawke was dazzled.

'_How on earth did I get here?'_ thought Hawke, amazed.

…Where _was_ here?

Hawke turned around, and was met with ten-foot tall glass. A beautiful mirror stood in front of her, encased in a gold-colored frame. It was nearly identical to Merrill's eluvian, but this one was free of scratches or marks. The only adjective that could possibly describe it was… grand.

_'Is this another eluvian…?'_ wondered Hawke, her eyes wide with wonder. She racked her brain, trying to remember what Merrill said about the functions of the eluvian, so that she could find out how to get back.

_'Was it for transporting things or was it a weapon...?'_ thought Hawke in vain.

_'No, it couldn't have been a weapon... it teleported me here, so it has to be a teleportation unit of some sort.'_

Silently chiding herself for not listening better, she sighed and instead decided to attempt to move.

She tried to lift herself, muscles aching, onto her knees on the soft floor, and stretched, feeling the cages of immobility lift and expand away, and sighed pleasantly, reveling in the feeling. The soft fur beneath her body attributed to her comfort.

After a while, Hawke found the strength to stand up, shaking. She knew that she'd better leave this room soon, lest someone comes in and thinks her a thief. Wobbling slightly, she tried to will the strength to come back into her legs. Looking around the room, she looked for anything, any clue as to where she could be. She inspected the architecture, trying to figure out what type it was with no avail. Her eyes traced around the room until it fell upon the coffee table.

She shuffled over to the coffee table, where she eyed a few letters lying on it, hoping that the address was printed on it.

Her fingers clumsily picked up one of the many letters lying down on the table. Her eyes quickly scanned the content of the front and back of the letter envelope, her eyes widening at the words.

_'Magister D._

_1163 Ironbird Way,_

_Minrathous, Tevinter Imperium'_

Hawke dropped the letter back onto the coffee table wordlessly. She'd been transported to Tevinter.

_'Tevinter? Tevinter? Of all places? What if I can't get back? It's so far away from Kirkwall...'_

But Hawke knew that the faster she found someone to help her, the faster she could find out if it was possible to get back. She straightened up, determined, and took in a deep breath. Perhaps a scholar could help her...

"Well well, who is this delightful little angel?" a slippery-smooth voice said suddenly from behind her.

Hawke gasped audibly at the sudden voice, dropping her silent musings and turning around sharply. She found the source of the voice in the mouth of the elegantly arched doorway.

A tall, proud and grey man stood. His eyes were sharp and cold, loveless and ruthless. Sunken cheekbones lined the sides of his face, along with numerous scratches and scars. He had a grey beard that jutted out of his chin proudly, giving him a menacing, majestic look, and a proud nose. Most of all, Hawke noticed his elegant magister robes, electric blue in color. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of recognition. Who was this man?

The strange man's expression did not change.

"Who are you, dear? Not a thief I hope? Otherwise I'd have to have you cut into little tiny pieces, yes?" asked the man rhetorically, advancing towards Hawke," and we wouldn't wish to harm a fanciful little thing such as you, would we?"

The man cupped Hawke's chin with his large fingers, analyzing Hawke. She made a face and pulled away from him defiantly.

"I'm not a thief. I'm here by accident, I swear!" she insisted.

The man grasped her chin again, his fingers nearly bruising her skin in his crushing clutches.

"It is advisable to submit to me, girl," said the man, his voice moving like silk, calm and collected. It frightened Hawke.

"Now then, I honestly care little for where you're from or who you are, girl. You've arrived at quite the opportune time," he said, still holding her face in place.

"Wh-what do you w-want from me?" asked Hawke, shuddering. The man smiled.

"It is so very late, and I am to have my evening bath in a matter of moments. My slave is drawing the water as we speak. Afterwards, however, I am seeking some… pleasant female company."

_'Slave...?'_

Hawke paled, and then slapped away his hand, stumbling a few feet back. She gave him a murderous glare, wishing that eyes could spit fire, while he looked down at her nonchalantly. The icy hint in his eyes never faltered.

"Is that how it is to be, then? My warnings, girl, it is not wise to deny Master Danarius of something he wants."

Hawke's eyes widened.

'_Danarius?_ '

That man… that man who kept Fenris as a slave...

Hawke stared at him blankly, the pieces coming together in her mind. She had been transported to Danarius' mansion, Fenris' former master, in Tevinter. Why doesn't Danarius recognize her then? Furthermore, Hawke recalled Fenris telling her that Danarius considered Fenris his dearest item, his most treasured possession. If so, then why would he get another slave? Unless the slave Danarius mentioned _was_ Fenris?

_'This doesn't make any sense..._' thought Hawke.

Danarius smiled at her coldly, reading her expression. It seemed obvious to him that she had heard of him. As she was looking dazed, he began to touch her again, trying to coax her into succumbing to him. His large fingers traced the bones on her face, smiling when she flinched.

"Now then, kitten, shall we play master and slave tonight?" his sickeningly sweet voice churned the remains of her stomach and Hawke's eyes widened. She slapped away his hands and backed against the eluvian, feeling the cold glass kiss her clothed backside. Her shock soon twisted into rage when she remembered what Fenris said this man did to him, being the man who instilled the hate and anger in him, the pain and the agony and the endless confusion. Soon however, that rage turned into fear and she gripped the sides of the mirror.

She prayed silently that the eluvian would take her back, prayed that somehow this bizarre nightmare would vanish as her fingers grasped around the sides of the mirror. Her prayers were in vain, as she was still there, in the magister's bedroom. She knew that she wouldn't be able to take him down alone.

Danarius' mouth tightened into a grim line.

"Is that how it is to be, then? Cross me, girl, and you shall regret it," he said dangerously. Hawke knew at this point that she had to escape from this demented man. Her hand felt around her lower back cautiously.

'_Drat, I left my staff at Merrill's,'_ she thought,_' I only have my hands for this.'_

Danarius waited patiently for her to make the first move, his eyes daring her, taunting her. He stood in front of her with his arms outstretched slightly.

"Go on, kitten, try. Try and defeat me, if that's your will."

At these words, Hawke quickly cast a protective bubble around her and ran towards the doorway, her heart racing faster than her legs were moving.

'_Get away from him, get away from him, get away from him!_' Hawke yelled at herself mentally. She ran blindly through the hallways, trying to light another spell to let her see better, hoping that her bubble would last for as long as she needed to get out of this place.

The tall magister watched after her, smirking knowingly. The girl was just too predictable. He walked out of the doorway, towards the grand staircase, muttering a small charm under his breath. The crashing sound of slammed windows and doors was then heard.

"You can run, kitten, but you cannot hide!" his voice echoed in the dimly-lit chambers and corridors. His yell only encouraged Hawke to run faster.

Danarius smiled and snapped his fingers, calling to his slave.

"Fenris, come to me."

In a matter of seconds, a tall, pale and ghastly elf approached the magister, limping with every step. His head hung submissively, hands dragging by his sides. This was only a sample of what elven slaves looked like in the Tevinter Imperium. In Tevinter, elves were comparable to dirt, but even dirt was too high a status to be compared to_ elven slaves_. His true name was Leto, but the magister Danarius had made quick work of that, ordering him to change his name to 'Fenris', saying only that it suited him better. Now, only his mother and sister called him Leto, in the few times that he saw him nowadays.

The elf's hands were wet, signaling that he had finished drawing the magister's bath.

"Your bath is ready," the elf croaked weakly, having not eaten in days.

"Worry not about the bath, lad. It seems that we have company tonight," chuckled Danarius cruelly. Leto looked up, an expression of resignation constantly on his face, mixed with confusion. Rarely did Danarius have any guests at this hour. Leto decided not to question Danarius and instead began to shuffle towards the storeroom to collect wine for their guests.

"I shall bring wine, then," said Leto compliantly. Danarius shook his head.

"None of that, Fenris. This particular guest came… unexpectedly, without reason. I politely invited her to stay but alas, she decided to defy me, quite rudely, and is now attempting to flee the mansion. I have magically sealed the front and back doors and windows, preventing any escape."

The elf nodded, understanding. No words were needed; he had learned long ago that words were only spoken when necessary from him, lest his master beat him for speaking out of turn or send him for a trip to the torture chambers. Or worse yet, give him to Hadriana for a few hours.

"Do be a good lad and come fetch her for me. See if she resists. If she does, then my, we are going to have some fun," said Danarius, smiling widely. He loved it when his foes showed spirit and resistance. It made it all the sweeter when Danarius crushed them under his boot. Leto nodded silently and walked towards the grand staircase, where the visitor had run off to.

"Try not to kill her, little Fenris. It is so much more fun with the kitten alive," called Danarius after him.

Leto pulled out the greatsword that was always strapped to his back, wielding it weakly, feeling the crushing weight of it pull on his frail arms. He knew that he'd better get into shape soon, for the upcoming slave competitions. He swung around the sword, trying to get used to the heaviness as he walked, holding the sword in one hand while brushing the jet black hair out of his face with the other. He would find this girl, bring her to Danarius, then set upon getting ready for the competitions. His mother and sister's freedom awaits.

_'Yes, freedom awaits,'_ Leto thought to himself harshly, brows furrowing. He stopped before the grand staircase, greatsword slung across his back, pommel in hand.

* * *

><p>Hope you enjoyed this first chapter! (: R&amp;R!<p>

**Note**: To avoid any confusion, this story takes place after Fenris has been enslaved by Danarius but directly before he gets his markings. Thus, 'jet black hair' and 'slave competitions' if you remember the quest 'Alone'. It'll become more clear in the coming chapters.


	2. A Gilded Collar

**SHACKLE BOUND**

Hawke tampers with Merrill's eluvian one day and is magically transported to the past, much to her horror and confusion, and ends up in Danarius' mansion with a still-enslaved Fenris. What happens when she is forced into apprenticeship by Danarius? AU.

Rated: M for disturbing content.

Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort

Fenris x Hawke

Welcome back! I was really pleased with the feedback I got for the previous chapter so here's another (: Thank you for the reviews!

Enjoy!

"Words."

'_Thoughts, dreams, memories, emphasis, etc.'_

* * *

><p>"It appears that your friend has been teleported."<p>

Marethari's words shocked everyone in the room. Anders, Merrill, Fenris, Aveline, Isabela and Varric all crowded around the elderly Keeper, creating a half-circle around the tarnished eluvian. Merrill had gone out and retrieved all of Hawke's companions, getting all the help she could get.

"Teleported? How, Keeper? The mirror's still unfinished! It can't be used!" argued Merrill, confused. Marethari shook her head.

"You must understand child, that the mirror is in a very fragile state when being repaired. Like many other eluvians, this one may have been magically connected long ago with another eluvian elsewhere in the world, and now that this eluvian is broken, that connection has been severed. Lady Hawke must have done something to provoke the severed teleportation. We shall need to find out for ourselves where she may have ended up," Marethari explained.

Aveline's palm hit her forehead exasperatedly, whispering under her breath," Maker, Hawke what have you gotten yourself into this time…"

Anders frowned," I think we should be more concerned with getting her back, shouldn't we? To the hells with where she ended up, what happened to the portal?"

"It disappeared, see?" said Merrill, pointing the non-existent reflective side of the mirror.

"So then how do we make it appear again?" asked Varric.

"We ourselves cannot. Lady Hawke herself must provoke the portal again as only she has access to it. We can only hope that the mirror she has access to is fully functional."

"Oohh," squealed Isabela delightfully," just imagine where she could've ended up! I bet she's somewhere in the middle of a palace right now surrounded by strong, handsome servants, the lucky little…"

"What?" cried Anders," You mean, we can't do anything about getting her back?"

"I never said that, young man," said Marethari calmly," I said that we can't make the portal appear. We can, however, still communicate with Lady Hawke, should she happen upon the mirror again. What we must do, however, is first allow Merrill to repair the remainder of the mirror, and then see if we can spark up the connection once more. For that, however, we shall need to read up on how the connection was created for teleportation in the first place."

At this, Merrill made a small "oh!" and sprung up, skipping over to her desk, where a number of dusty tomes and books lay. She gathered what she could in her arms and brought them over to her group members, who were watching her curiously. Grinning, she dumped them at their feet, and Marethari frowned slightly at her carelessness.

"Careful, child. Do not ruin the knowledge we have left of our past." Merrill nodded sheepishly and muttered an apology under her breath.

Everyone bent down to inspect the books. Tomes such as '_Mirror, Mirror On The Wall: A History of Magical Teleportation Devices'_, _'Eluvians and Their Uses'_, _'Ancient Arlathan Artifacts'_, '_Tevinter Tools and Their Usage in Modern History'_, and '_Portals and the Darkspawn Taint' _lay on the floor. Anders crouched down to pick a promising-looking tome, and sat down in a large armchair to flip through. Everyone but Isabela and Fenris, who is unable to read, followed suit.

"Why would poring over these dusty fairytales help us get her back?" asked Isabela, scrunching up her nose and picking up one of the books," we'd be better off banging the mirror and hoping she'd hear us."

"Isabela…" began Merrill.

"Come on, sweet thing, she's a tough girl. I really doubt she's in a load of trouble. Shouldn't we just wait until she gets back on her own? How do you know she's not having a good time?" argued Isabela.

"That is a broad estimation, young woman. Lady Hawke could be anywhere in the world, and even anywhere in history," said Marethari.

"Do you mean to say that Hawke could have been transported to the past?" asked Fenris skeptically.

"Indeed she could. That is why we must find out for ourselves," said Marethari.

"Well I can't stay here all day, I need to get back to the barracks," said Aveline, taking '_Tevinter Tools and Their Usage in Modern History'_ in her arms and getting up," I'll take one of these and come back tomorrow and tell you what I've found."

"I can't hang around here either," said Isabela," I need to head back to The Hanged Man. Business, y'know? But… I suppose I'll take a look at one of these…" With that, she picked up '_Portals and the Darkspawn Taint' _and headed out the front door.

"Alright," said Merrill," I'm going to start fixing the mirror but I need someone to guard the eluvian while I'm fixing it."

"I shall do it," said Fenris, who had been silent throughout most of the entire meeting. He took his place by the side of the eluvian. Despite his apparent dislike for the blood mage, he was ready to help Hawke in any way, even if he could not read. He watched everyone go their separate ways, with Varric and Anders staying at Merrill's house and everyone else leaving, books in hand. Anders grinned at him superiorly across the room as he began leafing through the book _'Magical Properties of Teleportation Tools'_. Fenris simply sneered back and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes, knowing that it's to be a long day.

* * *

><p>It soon became very apparent to Hawke that she was being followed.<p>

The night shone in through the windows, illuminating the darkened hallways and corridors. Hawke paused to catch her breath behind a wall, and listened silently for any signs of life. She knew that Danarius himself was too cowardly to fight her one on one, so he likely had sent a skeleton warrior or something after her, and she braced herself with her hands up in defense, a powerful spell in mind.

_'Give me your best shot,'_ thought Hawke tauntingly.

She began to hear breathing get heavier and heavier as the stalker approached. Hawke held her own breath and recited the spell incantation in her mind. She would show Danarius that she was stronger than she looked.

Soft, careful footsteps became audible, and Hawke straightened up, hands in the air.

Swiftly, she turned around and muttered her strongest fire spell, her hands concocting the spell to be thrown at her follower. A massive fireball began to brew in Hawke's hands, as she released it in the direction of her enemy, gasping heavily in exertion.

"Take that!" she cried, listening for the 'boom' of the impact of the fireball. A few seconds later, she heard a loud crashing sound and smiled in satisfaction. Soon after, a flame began to form in the middle of the room, consuming all of the expensive furniture and eating away at the curtains. A loud, throaty groan sounded within the room as the targeted man, and Hawke spotted a heap on the ground in the midst of the flames. She stood back and shielded herself from the fire, waiting for the spell to wear out and for the flames to disappear.

* * *

><p>A world of agony surrounded him.<p>

All he remembered was a sphere of fire blown his way, knocking the wind out of him. He flipped and turned in pain, feeling the fire scorch his senses and choke the life out of him. He tried to open his eyes, but all he saw was embers, nibbling away at the furniture in the lavish guestroom. He groaned loudly when the fire kissed his already injured areas, inflicted by Danarius or Hadriana. Leto's hands threw up, throwing the embers out of his face, trying to see past the blazing agony and scalding pain.

After a few moments, the spell wore off, vanishing the fire in the room, and Leto lay in a fetal position on the floor, unconscious.

* * *

><p>Hawke approached the figure lying on the ground after the flames died, triumphant smile sitting on her face.<p>

_'I got you now...'_

She crouched down, inspecting her enemy. As she turned the figure's face, her smile dropped.

Jet black was strewn all over his face messily, ruined by the impact of the fireball. Elven features decorated his face accompanied by the olive skin she knew so well. His eyes were closed, and he was struggling to breath. Burns and scorch marks lined his skin, mostly on his arms, and his clothes were rags strewn across his body, eaten by the flames. His face was younger than she remembered, free of lines on his forehead and eyes, looking like a young man just entering his mid-twenties.

Hawke gasped audibly in shock. Was it really him?

He gasped and choked, holding on dearly to what little life was left in him. His eyes flashed open for a split second, and Hawke felt her heart drop.

Forest green.

"Fenris?"

Tears welled up in her eyes as she choked out an apology, her hands scrambling for a healing spell. The incantation was muddled in her brain, mixed with confusion and sorrow, but she managed to blurt out the spell clumsily and pressed her hands to his burnt chest, feeling the soothing waves flow from her hands into his body. The burn marks lifted somewhat, removing the numbing pain away from his body, leaving only scars across his arms and face. Afterwards, Hawke's hands shakily reached into her pack, searching urgently for a healing potion, seeing that her spell wasn't enough to heal him fully. Her hand shuffled past the keys and mana potions in her pack. Finally locating the small vial, she withdrew it and gently pulled his mouth ajar, pouring the liquid down his throat, keeping his head up with her other hand. He choked and sputtered on the unfamiliar liquid.

Hawke held his head guiltily as she watched him take in the liquid, silently beating herself over the head for her impulsiveness, but not before a considerable amount of questions popped up in her head.

* * *

><p>He felt someone lift his head up gently, and a cold, funny liquid run into his opened mouth. He coughed, but soon relaxed and allowed it into his system. It tasted odd, but pleasant. He couldn't remember the last time he had a proper drink. The watery solution ran down his throat, hydrating his parched mouth. It left as soon as it came, and Leto groaned mentally, begging for more. His breathing steadied and he soon leaned back in the stranger's arms, suddenly realizing that the searing pain he'd felt only seconds ago was gone, like dust wiped away with a cloth.<p>

Slowly, he opened his eyes, looking upwards. Sorrowful blue eyes greeted his, and he sat up suddenly, backing away from the stranger.

* * *

><p>Her heart rose with joy once she saw Fenris open his eyes, forest green boring holes into her own with an odd expression on his face.<p>

"Fenris!" she cried, latching her arms around his frail body," You're awake!"

He did not respond, instead sitting blankly, dazed.

'_Who is this woman...?'_ thought Leto, confused. He backed away slightly, analyzing the young woman with calculating, alert eyes; the very same ones that she remembered.

She looked rather short and scruffy, he observed, with messy black hair and curious blue eyes. There was hardly anything intimidating or powerful about her, in fact she looked like one of the many everyday country women that he often encountered while on missions alongside Danarius. That, however, was when he noticed her robes.

**Mage.**

Leto's eyes narrowed slightly as he stared down the young woman suspiciously.

"Fenris?" said Hawke after he pulled back from her embrace. She looked him in the eyes, and that was when she noticed that he had no lyrium markings. Her blue orbs widened as she traced his chin where his lyrium markings would have been. He flinched apprehensively, watching her carefully, calculating her every move. He did not appear to recognize her.

"Who are you, and how do you know my name?" he asked cautiously. His voice was a tone lighter than how Hawke remembered it to be.

"I…I'm Hawke, remember? We're friends. In Kirkwall. I somehow got here through Merrill's mirror while I was at her house and now I'm here in Danarius' mansion. I don't know why you're here. Why do you have black hair, and where'd your lyrium markings go?" asked Hawke, her hands touching his soft black hair.

Leto sat, listening to her list all these unfamiliar names, of which he only recognized 'Danarius', until she mentioned his lyrium markings, to which he furrowed his eyebrows. How did she know about that?

"How do you know that I am to receive lyrium markings?" asked Leto with suspicion.

Before Hawke could answer, the two heard loud clapping at the doorway of the guest room. Their heads turned towards the sound, where Danarius stood, standing proudly and clapping his hands.

"Well now, I could never had imagined that wolves and kittens could get along so well. It seems you've taken a liking to my little Fenris, haven't you," he said, his voice as silky smooth as ever. He approached the two, ceasing clapping.

"Fenris, I was quite sure I specifically instructed you to bring her back to me, not converse with the target, silly lad," he said, smiling sarcastically. Leto hung his head, awaiting punishment while Danarius turned to Hawke.

"As for you, kitten, I'm quite impressed. You've successfully nearly killed my bodyguard and then healed him back to health, clearly with skill. Quite a moody little thing, aren't you?" he asked Hawke, chuckling.

"Touch either me or him and you'll know just how moody I can really be," growled Hawke promisingly. Leto looked at her strangely.

_'A mage? Protecting me? The world never ceases to amaze me...'_

"Tsk tsk, feisty feisty. As much as I enjoy your games, I do think you need to learn a few manners, kitten. You would do well to learn to bow to your superiors," cackled Danarius, as he came close to Hawke and bent down, looking her in the eyes, smiling cruelly. He outstretched his hand, and then brought it harshly across her face, knocking her unconscious.

* * *

><p>"It says here that some eluvians were created in pairs, so that one can travel between the location of one to another instantly," read Anders, his eyes fixated on the book he was holding," when one eluvian is destroyed, however, the other, undestroyed eluvian will have a disrupted teleportation process, and may lead the person going through the mirror back in time to the other mirror at a time when it was still fully functional."<p>

Merrill and Varric stared at him blankly.

Anders sighed," It means that the other mirror that yours was connected with might have been destroyed long ago, so Hawke was sent back in time because it was destroyed _in the past._"

Merrill nodded understandingly and Varric let out a low," ohhh…"

Anders continued to read studiously, determined to find the answer to why Hawke was gone. They had been sitting like that for over four hours while Merrill worked restlessly on fixing the frame of the mirror, waiting for the other two to come up with an answer. Varric read along with Anders, both sitting on cushions on the floor, with Varric taking a more leisurely approach to reading than Anders. Fenris sat by the eluvian, with his great sword on his lap, alert for anything that could possibly emerge from the eluvian. It was then when he began to notice Merrill looking at him strangely.

"What?" asked Fenris, annoyed.

"Fenris, when did you get those burn marks?" she asked, putting down the arulin'holm and pointing to his face. Fenris ran a hand down his face, confused. Varric put down his book and crawled close to Fenris, inspecting him.

"Yeah, Elf, when _did_ you get those marks? You sure as hell didn't have 'em before," commented Varric.

"I have many scars. I do not see why this is of importance to both of you," snarled Fenris, his hand still on his face.

"You might want to take that back, Broody. Take a look in the mirror," said Varric. Merrill walked over to a pile of clothes and from underneath, she pulled out a small mirror. Wordlessly, she handed it to him, while Fenris looked himself over, his eyes widening.

Dark brown burn scars marred his olive skin, among the many other battle scars that already were on his face. Fenris frowned and brushed his fingers against the burn marks tentatively. As he lifted his hand up, he noticed numerous more unfamiliar scorch marks lining his hand and arm.

_'I do not remember these…'_ thought Fenris.

Merrill and Varric watched him frown to himself, then looked to each other, exchanging skeptical glances.

_'What's going on…?'_

* * *

><p>"Wakey wakey, kitten," a snake-like voice interrupted Hawke's pleasant dreams. She scrunched up her face, disappointed at the rude interruption, and blinked her eyes open, finding herself lying down, staring up straight into Danarius' face. Immediately, her mouth opened to yell at him.<p>

"Not so fast, little one. I've made quick work of that loud, ear-splitting voice of yours," said Danarius, smirking," I did say that I would teach you some manners, did I not?"

Hawke's eyes widened as she tried to say something, anything. She attempted to force her voice out, but no sound came out, save for the quiet whoosh of air with which she inhaled. It was as if her vocal chords have been completely torn out and discarded. She glared up at Danarius with all the hate she could manage. He only chuckled loudly at her vain efforts.

_'You bastard! You son of a bitch!_' she wanted to scream, but no sound came out of her mouth, no matter how hard she tried.

"Now now, kitten. Despite the fact that you've ruined my guest room, I have taken quite a liking to you. Your skills in magic are, no doubt, impressive. Clumsy, uncontrollable, but impressive. I believe if I tame the little tiger in you we can make you into a fine, submissive little sorceress. Therefore I am taking you under wing as my apprentice," explained Danarius, his smirk widening as he watched Hawke's expression unfold.

Hawke saw red. She was _furious. _This disgusting…_ fiend_ had taken away not only her voice, but also forced her into apprenticeship? Hawke's hands scrambled up to throw a fireball at him, but she soon found that she couldn't move them. Looking down, she saw that Danarius had bound her hands tightly. Danarius cackled, thoroughly amused.

"Oh little one, you are far too predictable! Do you even realize just _how_ much? We shall have to take care of that soon as well."

"Since the guest room is in shambles, thanks to your work, that is where you shall be staying when you are not studying with me. You are to be locked in here, and given food and water twice a day. Free time is given to you one hour per day to roam at your will, but my slave shall be keeping close watch over you," explained Danarius. He then came up close to Hawke, his steely eyes gazing into Hawke's coldly.

"You are to _behave_ yourself, kitten, around myself and around guests. If you do not, you shall be sent to the dungeons. Not a very nice place for a defenseless kitten. Understand?" he said threateningly. Hawke had no choice but to nod grudgingly.

"Good girl. Now, I know you've already gotten acquaintanced with my slave, Fenris. Lovely lad, no? He has… the softest hair," commented Danarius, watching Hawke flinch delightfully from the tone of his voice.

"He shall be the one to bring you food and water every morning and evening. He has already been… taken care of for not fulfilling his previous task properly, but shall still come bring you dinner tonight. I shall also have him take you later for a tour of the mansion."

Hawke's rage bubbled up again, and she glared up at Danarius. How she wanted to hurt him, hurt him _badly_. Her teeth grinded as she attempted to restrain herself from throwing herself onto him. Danarius noticed this and smiled, pleased with himself.

"Now then, shall we go introduce you to my other promising apprentice? I'm sure the two of you shall get along simply fabulously. She, like you, is very enthusiastic," said Danarius fondly. Hawke did not respond. The magister then untied her hands, and she let out a breath of relief, massaging her hands gingerly. She looked down and realized that she had been stripped of her ragged robes and instead dressed in a flowy white gown, feeling her temper bubble up again when she realized that he himself probably took the pleasure of changing her. Her fists clenched tightly.

_'I wonder how he'd like a taste of some good ol' Ferelden fists in his face,'_ thought Hawke sarcastically as she glared up at Danarius, who ignored her, instead taking Hawke's hand in his gently, who pulled away immediately in disgust, to which she earned a sharp slap. Tears sprang to Hawke's eyes from the stinging pain on her cheek, and she cradled it with one hand while Danarius took the other and led her out of the ruined guest room and into the main hallway with a blank expression on his face, as if nothing had happened.

After the pain in her cheek had subsided, Hawke looked out into the main hallway and her eyes widened with wonder. She had never had the time last evening to truly appreciate the beauty of the mansion. As she walked with Danarius, her eyes darted from wall to wall, taking in the breath-taking scenery. All around her, the color white was displayed. White marble floors, white stainless walls, white cushions, white fireplace, white tables, white chandeliers.

The main hallway was huge and rectangle-shaped, with the main doorway on one side of the room, and the grand staircase, also white, on the other. They walked, hand in hand (reluctantly on Hawke's part) to the staircase from one of the many elegant guest rooms adjacent to the grand staircase. Hawke saw numerous armchairs gathered around the fireplace, made of very expensive white leather, with beautiful orchids decorating the top of the fireplace. Above them, brilliant chandeliers decorated with countless of diamonds glistened in the light. Hawke could see her reflection from the pieces of glass that hung from the chandelier.

_'How ironic, that such a gorgeous mansion could belong to such a cruel guy,' _thought Hawke to herself observingly, admiring the chandeliers that hung above her black halo of hair.

Hawke looked to the front of her and saw a number of other doors, presumably leading to the kitchens and dining room. As they approached the grand staircase, Hawke strained her eyes to see a figure shuffling across the room. Leto limped across the main hallway, his hands shaking as he carried a platter filled with food over to one of the tables near the armchairs and fireplace. His raven hair covered his face, but Hawke noticed how his frail arms shook as he walked.

"Little Fenris!" called Danarius cheerfully. He looked up and stopped walking, staring at his master in the eye. Hawke's mouth hung ajar when she saw his face.

In addition to the burn marks from last night, he sported numerous cuts on his arms, including a large, open cut. He was breathing heavily, and his voice weakly responded with a "Yes master?" quickly making it clear to Hawke that he hadn't drunk or eaten in days. Her heart broke, and she longed to run to him and stuff him with the most delicious foods in the world. She knew however, that Danarius would quickly harm both him and her if she were to do that, so she refrained, making a mental note for herself to later pass him some food when he would visit her to bring her dinner.

"Straighten up, lad. I will not have you slumped like a shriek to our guests," said Danarius, scolding. The thin elf trembled as he attempted to hold his head higher, feeling pain shoot to his joints as he continued his way to the tables. Hawke stared at him in disbelief. Danarius smiled, satisfied and grasped Hawke's hand once more, leading her up the staircase, to where the master's and apprentice's bedrooms were.

Inside the apprentice bedroom, Hawke saw a tall, woman sit atop of a large bed, her backside facing Hawke. Danarius knocked on the door loudly.

"Hadriana! Come! You have a new classmate!" he called. The woman turned, her dark hair swaying as her icy blue eyes met with Hawke's. She was beautiful, a young twenty-something with high cheekbones and pouty red lips. She sized Hawke up, looking her over, then scowled jealously when she noticed their intertwined hands, but quickly plastered on a fake smile for the sake of her master.

"Is that so? How precious! Very pleasant to meet you, my name is Hadriana. To whom do I owe this pleasure?" asked the woman in a sugar-sweet voice. That was when Danarius piped up.

"Ah yes, we haven't even given you a name, have we, kitten? What do you believe, Hadriana?"

"Well, master, as you so tastefully call her, 'kitten', then why not allow her that as a name?" said Hadriana, batting her eyelashes flatteringly at Danarius. Hawke turned slightly, hiding the face of disgust she had on her face.

"Right you are, dear girl. Hear that, little one? Your name is now Kitten. Do be a good girl and respond to it, yes?" said Danarius, brushing the hair out of Hawke's eyes. She pulled away slightly, turning her face in the other direction.

"Well then Hadriana, how go your studies?" asked Danarius, ignoring Hawke. The young woman hopped up enthusiastically, skipping over to her bed, and showing the magister a small booklet with writing in it.

"I have finished all of the exercises in the chapter, front and back master!" piped Hadriana. It soon became very clear to Hawke that she was trying extremely hard to please Danarius.

"Good girl. I expect you to finish the book by nightfall, dear. Don't forget the chapter about summon spells," said Danarius, as he waved goodbye to the eager young apprentice and led Hawke back down the stairs, where he paused and let go of her hand.

"Kitten, my guests are to arrive in a matter of moments, and you are to go to your quarters. I shall have Fenris come to your door with your dinner and then take you on a tour of the mansion once you have finished eating and once the guests have left. Now then, off you go. I am watching you. Do _not_ leave your room," said Danarius, the threatening undertones seeping from his words.

Hawke glared at him as she stalked off back to her scorched guest room. Once she was inside, she gave him once last, hateful glare at the doorway before slamming it shut, the sound echoing in the hallway. Danarius chuckled, and sat down in one of the armchairs, taking a branch of grapes from the platter that Fenris had placed on the table and helped himself.

* * *

><p>Leto slumped onto the ground after he'd finished serving Danarius' guests in the kitchen, exhausted from the exertion, his muscles aching for a hot bath and some food. He managed to sneak an apple to eat when the chef or Danarius weren't looking, and felt somewhat rejuvenated. Now, all he wanted was to sleep. His mind quickly made a run through all of his duties in the day, checking off what he had done. He relaxed, satisfied when he realized that he'd done all his duties that day. His hand rubbed the wound on his arm accidentally, and he hissed, sucking in his breath from the shooting pain. Checking the wound from underneath his shirt, Leto swore when he found that the cut had opened up again. His mind traveled to how he got that cut in the first place.<p>

After Danarius had knocked out the stranger last night, Leto was sent immediately to the torture chambers for punishment. He remembered it clearly, and in great detail.

* * *

><p><em>'Little Fenris, I do recall telling you what I wanted from you tonight, have I not?' asked Danarius impatiently, circling the elf around the dungeon.<em>

_'…yes master…' said Leto weakly, feeling the handcuffs digging into his skin painfully. Danarius had specifically picked out handcuffs too small for his wrists, and smiled as he saw Leto's discomfort._

_'You understand, that I asked for the girl to be brought back, knowing your skill. Instead, you were cut down so easily by one mage. A WOMAN, at that. What manner of nonsense is that?' said Danarius loudly, as he slapped Leto in the face. A loud clap echoed from the impact, and Leto shut his eyes tightly, anticipating the additional pain that was sure to come. A small pause ensued, before Danarius spoke once more._

_'Now then. I want you to undress. Take off your top,' said Danarius slowly, watching Leto pull his top off compliantly. He placed the shirt in a heap beside him. Satisfied, Danarius nodded to the assortment of daggers hanging off the dungeon wall._

_'Take the sharpest one.'_

_He did._

_'Now drag it across your skin. Do so until I tell you to stop.'_

_Leto paused at this, bracing himself for the pain, looking at the tip of the small, razor-sharp dagger. It glared at him like a beacon. Closing his eyes, he took one last breath before he plunged the edge of the dagger across his arm. Shutting his eyes tightly from the pain, he felt the blood seep down his hand and onto the cold floor. Again and again, Leto brought his hand back up to slash his skin apart, howling painfully and grinding his teeth. Sweat poured down his forehead in small streams, while the blood poured from his chest and arms in copious amounts. He stopped abruptly, unable to will the strength back to his hand to bring it up again. His vision became blurry and he could scarcely recognize his surroundings. Leto swayed from side to side, feeling extremely lightheaded, and could barely hear his master's voice._

_"That is enough. I hope you have learned your lesson well, little wolf."_

_Danarius turned around and exited the dungeons, leaving Leto a bloody heap on the ground, until he eventually passed out from blood loss._

* * *

><p>Leto laughed bitterly at the irony of it all. His master nearly killed him for being nearly killed by the target. Leaning back against a counter, he allowed himself a few winks of rest as he closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling that he was done for the day, and had the entire night to himself to catch up on sleep. That is, if Hadriana let him.<p>

Suddenly, his eyes opened wide nervously, as he remembered that he had yet to feed the stranger, who Danarius had specifically instructed him to feed at sunset. Briefly, he looked out the window, and saw that it was not yet sunset, and let out a breath of relief. Slowly, gathering his bearings, Leto went to the cabinet and pulled out a platter and began to collect food to give to the stranger.

His thoughts lingered on her. Who was she, and how did she know him? She seemed so happy to see him, a rarity that only happened when he saw his mother or sister. He supposed that he should ask her when he got the chance. She did not seem like she would hurt him for speaking out of turn.

Leto finished gathering the food on the platter, looking at it longingly. Stomach grumbling, he shuffled out of the kitchen, carrying the platter in his hands, towards the ruined guest room. Just one more task, and he would be free for the night.

* * *

><p>Well, there you go (: hopefully you've enjoyed that last chapter!<p>

Cheers! R&R!


	3. A Demon's Plaything

**SHACKLE BOUND**

Summary: Hawke tampers with Merrill's eluvian one day and is magically transported back to the past, much to her horror and confusion. What happens when she finds out she'd been transported to Danarius' mansion, where a certain elven slave is held? Slightly AU.

Rated: M for disturbing content.

Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort

Fenris x Hawke

Hello (: This chapter took slightly longer to write because it occurred to me that I am rushing far too much with my previous chapters, therefore I've taken the time to flesh out the characters and their thoughts, actions, descriptions, etc. Hopefully this is a sign that I am improving (: Later I shall be editing the previous chapters to do the same to them, and fixing the mistakes as well. Thank you for the reviews!

Reply to shewolf51: Truly? He always striked me as being 29/30 in Act 1 O: So I made him around 24-ish in this particular story. His age is a bit ambiguous however. Good observation though (:

I am putting 'Spectrum' to the side for now, but Chapter 3 will be up shortly. For now, I am focusing a bit more on 'Shackle Bound'.

Enjoy!

"Words."

'_Thoughts, dreams, memories, emphasis, book names, etc.'_

* * *

><p>Hawke sighed, sitting atop the remains of what used to be a lavish guest bed, trying to figure out what on earth was happening to her. The bed creaked from underneath her from lack of use and the covers, once swan-white, were blackened and charred from the fire of Hawke's spell. Everything else that the fire had touched was charred, and most of the carpet was gone, swallowed up by the fire. Her eyes lowered and she brought up her knees to her chest, counting the passing minutes, breathing softly. She wondered if it was time yet for Fenris to come visit her. Thinking of him instantly conjured up his image in Hawke's mind. He was as tall as ever, hunched over as always, alert for instructions and forever wary of his surroundings. His hair had the same softness and volume that it always had, that Hawke used to love to stroke when he wasn't looking back in Kirkwall.<p>

But this Fenris was… different. He was not like the bitter and brutal Fenris she had known before; this Fenris was _afraid_, a small child in the body of a full-grown man. He was Fenris stripped of his thick shell, revealing the fear that she knew even the bitter Fenris harbored. _'He is Fenris, and yet he is not.'_ It did not go unnoticed by Hawke, the way he walked unsteadily, or the way his eyes flashed with anxiety every time Danarius called his name, trembling with fear mixed with the budding seed of hate planted in his heart. She longed to comfort him, to tell him it's alright, to feed him and hug him, for he was little more than a defenseless pup, circled by hungry wolves. Most of all, however, she wished to ask for his help on how to get them both back from this nightmare. Her hands suddenly traveled up her throat, cursing the one thing she needed the most at this moment and did not have.

Vainly, she tried to clear her throat, emitting only a soft coughing sound. She opened her mouth to scream, to try to force her voice out, but her screams were heard only in her mind, and she huffed frustratedly, her hot temper flaring. Anger burned in her heart, cursing Danarius with every distasteful word she knew in Arcanum for taking away her one way of communication, and she knew that she'd have to come up with a plan later to get back her voice somehow. She knew that Fenris could not write, so she couldn't ask her questions on paper. Hawke sighed. At least, for now, she would be able to give him food and water.

She looked around her room, taking in the surroundings. Despite the considerable impact that the flames have made on the room, it was in fairly good shape, the black that the flames left against the white of the furniture in the room made an almost attractive contrast, Hawke mused. She saw a desk adjacent to the large bed that sat to one side of the room, and a large, ceiling-to-floor window with elegant white curtains, where the bottoms have been burned black. Across the room, there was a vanity, the front of it charred, but the mirror was still intact, as were the drawers. As Hawke inspected her room, her eyes fell upon a calendar that hung next to the vanity. Curiously, she got up to look it over, wondering what the date was. She walked across the room, her dress flowing like water behind her, until she reached the calendar, where she yanked it off the wall and hopped back to her bed, sitting cross-legged and looking it over. She did not get past the first page.

_'Calendar of 9:25 Dragon Age'_

Hawke's hands stopped midway.

9:25 Dragon?

Hawke frowned. Surely this was a mistake. It was currently 9:34 Dragon, wasn't it? 9:25 Dragon was five years before she even left Lothering. Was this calendar extremely out of date or something?

Hawke's frown deepened as she began to try to make sense out of what was happening. She was in Danarius' mansion, Fenris was his... slave, and he did not appear to recognize her. In addition, he had black hair, and had no lyrium markings...

Hawke glanced once again at the calendar. If it was correct about the date, then was it possible that...?

_'No, that's silly. Merrill never said anything about__ eluvians being able to time travel,'_ thought Hawke, trying to dismiss the thought, but it still lingered in her mind.

_'Was it possible that the mirror made me go back in time?'_

As Hawke continued to think of the possibilities, a timid knock interrupted her musings. Her head snapped to the door, and Hawke's heart jumped. Quickly, she opened her mouth to yell, "Come in!". No sound came from her mouth, and Hawke rolled her eyes at her forgetfulness, throwing herself off the bed exasperatedly. She marched over to the door and grasped the knob, pausing to think.

_'What am I supposed to do...?_' thought Hawke apprehensively, considering the communication barrier. She wondered if Fenris knew about her getting her voice taken away, and she shook her head, knowing that there was only one way to find out. She put on a confident face.

She slowly opened the door a crack, peering outside inquisitively, and spied a mop of black hair behind the edge of the door, the bearer keeping their head down. She put on a pleasant smile and opened the door fully, and watched as Leto looked up, his forest green eyes catching hers. She nodded to him, politely allowing him to step inside the room. He kept his head down, eyes glued to the floor as he shuffled slowly into the room, and Hawke wondered what it was he was thinking of.

_'He's starving, isn't he?'_ thought Hawke sadly, watching him eye the platter of food he was carrying longingly. She sat back onto her bed, watching him stand awkwardly just inside the room. He looked to her questioningly.

"Where would you have me to place this, mistress?" he asked quietly, his voice a defeated tone. It lacked the slightly growling timbre that the Fenris she knew had; yet another difference Hawke noticed between the two elves. It was then that Hawke noticed that he'd called her 'mistress'. Hawke did a double-take at this and shook her head to him fervently, making an 'X' to him with her arms. Leto stared suspiciously at her, platter still in hand.

"Am I to understand that you do not wish to be called 'mistress'?" he asked slowly. Hawke was thrilled by his fast comprehension, nodding beamingly.

"Then what am I to call you, if not mistress?" he asked again. Hawke stared at him blankly. It became quite clear soon that he was not yet informed that she couldn't speak. He looked at her patiently, waiting for an answer. An idea suddenly hit Hawke, and she looked around her room, searching for some paper and a writing utensil. Her eyes spotted a drawing book on the white marble desk adjacent to her bed, only slightly burned along the edges, along with a metal cup sitting on it, holding an assortment of pens and charcoal pencils. She reached over clumsily for the book over the edge of the bed, grabbing it and a pen out of the cup swiftly.

Her hands gripped the pen excitedly as it caressed the paper, quickly making swift strokes and curves along the paper, formulating the image of a very familiar bird. Her hands moved ungracefully, trying to make the drawing look plausible, and then she held up the paper to show to Leto. He stared at it.

Scritchy-sketchy lines clustered together to form some sort of picture, and Leto furrowed his brows together, trying to decipher it. She pointed to it and mouthed the word 'hawk', smiling. He watched her curiously, and then looked back to the roughly sketched picture.

"Hawk?" he asked cautiously. Hawke nodded enthusiastically. His brows furrowed in understanding.

"Your name is Hawke?" he asked, his eyes locking with hers," Is that what you wish for me to call you?" Hawke nodded, happy at the newfound understanding between the two of them. A thought suddenly dawned on her: this was a way for Hawke to communicate with him. She beckoned Leto to her excitedly, patting a spot beside her on the bed. He remained standing awkwardly near her bed, still holding the platter. Hawke waved her hand towards herself impatiently, signaling that he should sit. He didn't move. Huffing with impatience, Hawke quickly scribbled another picture in the drawing book of him sitting beside her on the bed.

"Are you unable to speak?" he asked her as she drew, trying to keep his voice a polite tone. He always did so as not to offend, remembering the last time he accidentally offended a guest at Danarius' mansion. Hawke nodded amidst her furious scribbles.

_'That would explain much,_' thought Leto, observing Hawke, who was finishing up her work.

She turned around the drawing book so that he could see. Leto squinted, looking at a picture of a rather comical stick-figured Leto and Hawke both sitting on the bed, with a very large grin drawn on Leto's face. He shook his head.

"I cannot. I am forbidden from it," he said.

Hawke lowered her book onto her lap slowly, staring up at him unbelievingly. Danarius did not let him sit down with his guests? Her mouth hung open and her eyes were wide open, thirsting for an explanation, gazing into his imploringly.

"I am not to impose that I feel like I am an equal to humans by sitting down," explained Leto, his eyes dodging contact with Hawke's. She was appalled, staring at him in disbelief.

_'Is the extent of Danarius' abuse so bad that he doesn't even allow Fenris to even sit down?'_ wondered Hawke, her heart melting with pity. Her tongue itched to ask him, and she sighed internally when she was reminded that she could not. Before she could begin to draw him something new, Leto spoke again.

"Eat. I must still show you a tour of the mansion before you are to sleep," instructed Leto. Hawke looked at him questioningly, then to the platter of food. Soups, fruits, salads, and other exquisite Tevinter cuisine sat on it, painting a mouth-watering picture that made Hawke's stomach grumble. She denied her temptation, suddenly feeling ashamed at herself. She had not eaten for a mere day; she knew the elven slave must have been starving for a long time. Hawke shuddered to think of just how long, and set to drawing another picture for him.

* * *

><p>Leto eyed the silent girl scribbling away with suspicion. She had asked him to sit down with her, and his mind began to try to calculate the motive behind her actions. No doubt she was trying to lure him into letting down his guard, so that she could run to Danarius and tell him everything. His heart hardened as he remembered Hadriana, who had done the same thing when she first came to the mansion. She wore the mask of a sweet, playful pupil in Danarius' presence, and Leto almost felt at ease around her at first. She would hand him some food in front of Danarius, carrying the facade, until it came to nightfall, when Leto would retire to his spot in the storage room attic if he had finished all his duties to catch a few hours of sleep. Danarius had instructed him specifically to return there for sleep, out of sight of the guests. Hadriana had the small chore of bringing him his meals every night, and instead of giving him the food, she would levitate the plate with food above his head, watching and laughing cruelly as his weak hands grabbed at it from the air in vain, hopping up and down, and then ceasing the spell when she got bored, watching the platter land on his head with a thud, the food landing on the floor, ruined. One time, she'd practiced her newly-acquired paralyzing spell on him, eating the bits of bread and fruit in front of him, and smiling as his stomach twisted hungrily in agony.<p>

From the first night that she ruined his meals, Hadriana would run to Danarius almost every week, accusing Leto of things he did not do. She would fake crying and lament that Leto had forced himself on her, pretending sorrow and fear, and would smirk behind Danarius' back when he marched Leto to the torture chambers, following closely behind to watch. Leto despised her and feared her simultaneously, realizing the power she had over him. She was, however, good for one thing: she made him realize that all mages were abhorrent, despicable beings, and this 'Hawke' woman was no different.

The woman sitting on the bed gestured to her finished drawing, looking up at him with her big blue eyes. Leto snapped out of his deep thought and gazed at the drawing. It showed a tall stick figure with long black hair, presumably Leto, stuffing food into his mouth. Hawke pointed to the platter of food still in his hands. Leto was stunned, but he maintained a straight face. Did she truly just offer him food, and not in Danarius' presence too?

_'This must be a trap,_' thought Leto, and he shook his head stubbornly. She's taking advantage of his weakened, hungry state, and would let him have some food, then tell Danarius that he stole it from her or some such, just like Hadriana often did. She likely pretended like she could not speak to trick him into letting down his guard. He refused to fall for her traps.

"You cannot fool me, mage. I know your games, and I know them well. Keep your distance," Leto said lowly, boring holes into Hawke with his eyes, "I know full well that you can speak. I've heard you do so last night. Enough with this silent façade."

The girl's face contorted into one of confusion, and she looked at Leto with a bit of hurt in her eyes. He ignored it, instead placing the platter of food on the desk and shuffling to the doorway. He could not stay there another moment, staring at all of that food.

"We should move on. I shall leave the food for you here to eat at your leisure. For now, however, I must still show you the mansion. If you would follow me," said Leto, looking back at Hawke. She sat complacently, looking at the platter of food he placed on the desk, and then stood up, pouting at him stubbornly, nodding her head to the plate of food. Leto mentally rolled his eyes.

_'Childish...'_ he thought to himself. Sighing, he walked slowly out the door, with a displeased Hawke in tow.

She couldn't believe he refused her food. She'd offered it to him with the purest intentions, and then he cast it back in her face rudely. Hawke wasn't ready to give up just yet, however, as another idea sparked into her head. Following him quietly as he showed her all the rooms, she waited until he would show her where he slept.

* * *

><p>Fenris' eyes opened slowly, tired and dazed. He stretched, arching his back tiredly and yawning, looking around the room. Merrill and Varric were fast asleep, their arms draped around each other for warmth, Bianca sitting beside them on a cushion. Fenris couldn't help but smirk at this picture, an image of Varric on his knees, apologizing profusely to Bianca for 'sleeping' with another woman coming to mind. He looked to his left and he saw Anders wide awake, leafing tirelessly through yet another tome, sitting in the same spot on the cushion as he was last night. He stared at him in disbelief. How could someone like him stay up the entire night, aimlessly searching through a half-dozen books all for one person?<p>

"Had a good sleep?" Anders asked tauntingly, his eyes never leaving his page. Fenris scowled and swiftly shot back with a biting comeback.

"Found information worthwhile to help get Hawke back?" asked Fenris sarcastically, to which Anders shut his book and looked up at him, a triumphant smile sitting on his face.

"As a matter of fact, I have. Wake the others up and tell them that I think I've got something."

Before Fenris could even begin to stand up, a loud yawn was heard from Merrill and Varric's direction. The two rubbed their eyes wearily, while Varric quietly lamented, "Geez you two, not so loud..." Anders grinned widely at him and tossed the book he held to Varric, who caught it just before it hit him in the chest.

"Careful Blondie," chided Varric, and then looked down on the book cover. _'Parallel Worlds: A Study on Alternate Realities'._

He frowned. Was this some kind of joke?

"How's this supposed to he-?"

"Just read," insisted Anders, his voice adamant. Varric's eyes darted back to the book, as Merrill scooted up closer to him to see. He slowly opened the book, leafing through it until he reached the blue ribbon bookmark on page 13. He lifted it off the paper, and Merrill read.

"Teleportation devices that send the subject into history may result in an alternative reality, which inevitably leads to the potentially destructive device of changing the past in the present. One such teleportation device that has been known to activate access into an alternate reality is the ancient Arlathan artifact, the 'eluvian' (elvish for 'seeing glass'), a mystical portal mirror that may thrust the user into an alternate universe if a connection between two portal mirrors is severed. The eluvian is able to lead to places beyond the Fade itself, into parallel realities and other, unknown areas."

Anders nodded his head as she read, as if he recited the whole thing in his mind. Varric was flabbergasted.

"Wait, so you're saying that Hawke's in a completely different universe?" he asked incredulously.

"She may, and from the sounds of it, she may be able to change history simply by being there," stated Fenris. Merrill stood up suddenly.

"I'll go get the Keeper again. Keep reading, Anders," she said urgently. He agreed and took back the book from Varric, reading over the lines. Fenris looked on, watching the mystery unfold in front of his eyes as Anders continued reading from the book. He closed his eyes again, silently asking Hawke where in the world (or rather, universe) she was.

* * *

><p>Leto silently led Hawke back to her guest chambers, his legs feeling like jelly after so much walking. He saw her to her door, where she waved a timid goodbye to him, and he grunted, acknowledging her. He turned around swiftly and walked back, wishing for the cold comfort of his dark, dry attic. He was glad that the grand staircase was already so close to the guest bedrooms as he limped towards it, illuminated by the bright moon that spilled into the mansion through the giant glass windows. He looked like a warrior who had just come back from a deadly war and was the last man standing in the face of his opponents.<p>

Wearily trudging up the stairs, Leto finally made a turn and entered the storage room, where amongst the various sacks of supplies and tools and crates, he found a small set of stairs leading upwards, and he grabbed the railing and pulled himself up, to his own little haven. As soon as his head rose out of the hole in the floor of the attic, mice feasting on his last ruined meal from two days past squeaked and scurried away, frightened. He'd gotten used to them a long time ago. They were almost like neighbors to him. He took a deep breath and crouched down, fishing for his blanket with both hands, finally grabbing it from underneath an old sack of rice. He held it out in front of him. It was old and rotted, with numerous holes in the corners from where mice had nibbled through with their sharp teeth, but it was the one thing he had from his mothers, a parting gift from months and months ago for when he was first enslaved by Danarius.

He remembered her fondly, the way she completely refused to hand him over to Danarius as a slave at first. She was completely adamant, like a brick wall, against him selling himself out for her sake, but when Varania, his sister, was put in question, she agreed reluctantly. She promised to come visit him every week, to bring him goods and gifts and talk with him about how things were. She kept her promise, at least for a while, and Danarius reluctantly allowed her in from the back door to see him. The visits got more and more rare as the months passed, and eventually, she stopped coming, from Danarius' interference, most likely. Leto knew she was still working. The sooner he received his markings, the sooner he'd free both his sister and his mother from slavery.

Leto looked over his arms, memorizing every scar, every cut on his skin, painted like a morbid picture on an olive canvas. He knew that soon enough, those scars and cuts would be replaced by cold, hard lyrium, and he knew full well that it would hurt. Badly. Excruciatingly. He also knew, however, that it was well worth it. A boon was promised in exchange for a body to experiment upon, and Leto would give up his gladly for the purchase of the release of his mother and sister.

He leaned against some crates, wondering if Hadriana was going to come up tonight to torment him again, mocking his position and flaunting her authority, and decided to put these thoughts to rest and catch some sleep while he could, just in case. His empty churned painfully again. That apple was not enough to return his strength, evidently. He breathed out raggedly, his eyelids heavy with need for sleep. He knew that he would need to eat soon, _very_ soon, and couldn't help wondering if Danarius was aware of Hadriana keeping away his meals. Tomorrow he would ask Danarius for a lunch, he decided, and hoped he would not get whipped. His forest green eyes closed slowly, reveling in the comfort that he was finally at the one place in the entire mansion where he felt at peace.

* * *

><p>Hawke waited until he was out of sight, listening to his fading footsteps, and then slowly kicked off her clunky white shoes, knowing what kind of noise they'd make against the cold white floor when she would follow him. She quickly hopped to the desk where Leto had left the platter of food standing, and picked apart the good from the spoilt foods. She took out the soups, knowing that by now they would be far too cold to taste any good, and studiously determined which foods would be the best for him. She left a large salad on the platter, which included a fork, some strange-looking herbs, unspoiled vegetables, and the tall glass of clear, cold water. The water would be the most important thing for him right now, and Hawke made a mental note for herself in order to walk carefully with it.<p>

Taking the platter, Hawke's feet stepped out of the guest room, closing it softly behind her, and then walked smoothly across the opaque floor, following Leto who was ascending up the stairs. He'd never shown her where he slept at night during their tour, and so she knew she had to follow him to give him the food she knew he so desperately needed. He was too stubborn and mistrusting to accept it otherwise. Hawke tiptoed across the floor, watching as her gown floated in the air, her legs getting goose bumps from the chilly air of Tevinter night. She looked up, seeing Leto finally reach the top of the stairs, and even from the bottom, Hawke could see that he was breathing heavily from exertion.

_'He _**_needs _**_this,'_ thought Hawke, looking at the appetizing salad. She began to ascend up the stairs as soon as Leto was out of earshot from the clattering of the glass of water on the platter. Silently, like a shadow, she brought one leg up after the other, silently cursing the limited leg space that her gown offered, and longing to be back in her comfortable mage robes. She soon reached the top, and saw Leto just as he entered what she remembered to be the storage room.

_'Does he sleep there?'_ thought Hawke, confused. She slowly made to follow him, until she was stopped by a cold hand on her shoulder. Hawke froze.

"Where do you think you're going with that, 'kitten'?'' asked a familiar feminine voice. Hawke turned around slowly, her eyes meeting cold blue ones instantly. Hadriana stood and looked like the cat that swallowed the canary, bearing a sneaky, knowing smile. Hawke opened her mouth accidentally, then closed it and motioned to the storage room.

_'I really need to get used to this...'_ thought Hawke exasperatedly. Hadriana did not seem to notice her mistake and simply asked another question.

"Is that for Fenris?" she asked, pointing to the plate of food. Hawke nodded.

"Hmm... I see... a bit fancy for a _slave_, no? I was on my way there myself. Fenris and I have a... close connection," Hadriana giggled. Hawke did not like the tone of her voice and moved away cautiously. Hadriana noticed her discomfort and smiled.

"Ah, well, I suppose I shall visit him another night then. _Such_ a sweet girl you are, bringing him his dinner," cooed Hadriana, winding her up. Hawke gave her a look, and moved onwards towards the storage room. Hadriana scowled at her and grabbed her arm suddenly, yanking it to her. Hawke gasped silently, nearly dropping the platter. The glass of water shook, almost spilling its contents.

"Listen here, you stuck-up little bitch. I'm Master Danarius' favorite, you understand me? Do not get in the way. I will not let one pretentious little harlot ruin my reputation as a mage prodigy. Understand?" spat Hadriana, her vice-like grip cutting off nearly all of the circulation on Hawke's wrist. Hawke raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

_'As if I want to be your abusive-ass master's favorite,'_ she thought sarcastically. She yanked back her hand and calmly walked away from Hadriana, hearing her huff in anger in the background. She entered the storage room not too far away, closing the door behind her, and cursing Hadriana in her head when she realized that she lost sight of Leto. Looking around the room, Hawke saw only sacks and barrels crowd the room, filled with all sorts of supplies and provisions. Her eyes scanned for Leto, falling only upon sacks and packages and crates. She frowned. Did he really go in here?

Turning around, Hawke spotted a small staircase leading upwards to some sort of attic, and she rushed over to it, taking care not to make any noise. She took hold of the railing in one hand and held the platter in the other and made her way up the stairs, lowering her head. As soon as she reached the attic, dust flying in the air hit her face. She rubbed her nose, resisting the urge to sneeze, and then looked around.

It was a small attic, filled with old possessions and more supplies. Hawke spotted a large assortment of paintings on one side of unknown people and places. Hawke noticed a large wooden crate with a huddled figure leaning on it, and squinted to make out a sleeping Leto, drowning in the peaceful oblivion of sleep. She approached him silently, thankful that she had taken off her shoes, then crouched down, placing her platter down beside his sleeping figure so that it would be the first thing he saw when he woke up. Smiling, she mouthed 'bon appetite' before departing briskly, turning back to descend back down the stairs, cursing mentally when she stubbed her toe audibly against the wall in the darkness of the storage room.

Soon enough, she was back in her own room, snuggling up in the covers of her bed and putting her unpleasant experience with Hadriana to the back of her mind.

* * *

><p>Hope you've enjoyed that last chapter ;)<p>

Also I hope the bit with the 'parallel universes' didn't turn anyone off from the story. I thought it might add an interesting element to the story. Tell me what you guys think (:

Cheers!


	4. Broken Bones, Broken Spirit

**SHACKLE BOUND**

Summary: Hawke tampers with Merrill's eluvian one day and is magically transported back to the past, much to her horror and confusion. What happens when she finds out she'd been transported to Danarius' mansion, where a certain elven slave is held? Slightly AU.

Rated: M for disturbing content.

Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort

Fenris x Hawke

Heya. Chapter four's up (;

Reply to WingedHourglass: Thank you for your feedback (: I was hoping somebody would tell me their insight since I don't usually tackle things like parallel universes and such. Better explanation: In this story, basically what happens is that Hawke travelled to the past in a parallel universe, because the eluvian that Hawke fell through was magically connected with Danarius' mirror, but the problem was that Danarius' mirror was already destroyed in the past by something, therefore the connection was severed, bringing Hawke back to a time when Danarius'mirror was still working. Since Hawke time-traveled, it resulted in the birth of another universe. The two universes, (past) with Hawke, and (present) with the others, are connected because Hawke created a bridge between the two by traveling between them, thus whatever happens in the past universe has an effect on the present universe, which is why Fenris has those burn marks, and why Hawke has to be careful about what she does to change history. Hope that clears things up (: Haha, no you're not an evil person ;P but you do have good taste!

**This story's been pretty tame concerning violence up to this point, but I must remind you that this is an M-rated fanfiction that well earns its rating. Disturbing, graphic violence up ahead. Turn back now if such things make you uncomfortable.**

Enjoy!

"Words."

_'Thoughts, dreams, memories, emphasis, book names, etc.'_

* * *

><p>Leto twisted and turned in his sleep, his arms outstretched, fighting demons that were not there. He groaned, feeling Hadriana's whip come down on him in his sleep. Every night, he would have nightmares such as these. It wasn't enough that he was tormented daily in life, but he was also stripped of his dignity even in sleep. When Hadriana did not come unto him physically at night, she did so in his sleep, not letting him forget her for a second, not that he particularly missed her.<p>

Awakening with a start, Leto rubbed the sweat off of his brow, and took in his surroundings frantically, trying to convince himself that it was simply all a dream. The familiar, welcoming sight of his beloved attic came into view, and Leto relaxed, leaning against the barrels and sacks, deciding that despite the temporary refuge that the attic gave him, he was really better off going about his day, adhering to his master's orders, killing on command and the like. True, it was stressful, and Leto couldn't wait each night for a chance at a good night's rest, but at least that way he knew what awaited him in the day, whereas in his dreams, they were often worse than what reality granted him.

Sighing, Leto outstretched his arms by his sides, releasing the built-up tension in his back and biceps. His mind was still hazy with sleep deprivation. He figured that he couldn't have been asleep for more than a few hours, given the unchanged darkness outside that he spied from the attic window. Dropping his arms by his sides, he heard a clatter sound as his hand hit a plate-like object, and he turned around, disturbed by the sound. The sight that greeted him was unexpected.

Pleasant surprises did not come often to Leto, but nothing was as pleasant a surprise as the shiny platter of food that sat beside him, almost gleaming gloriously in the moonlight, feeding his eyes with hunger and temptation. He saw a large, untouched salad sitting in the middle, already equipped with a fork, as well as several other goods that sat by the salad. One thing that caught Leto's eye the most, however, was the tall glass of clear, cold water. Leto swallowed, his throat parched. He quickly grabbed the glass and downed it, feeling the delightful liquid rejuvenate his entire being, bringing moisture back to his dry mouth and skin. His joints almost flinched with satisfaction, and Leto swore that before they were creaking with dehydration. He gasped for air as his mouth left the edge of the glass, almost feeling as if he had become a new person. Being a slave to Danarius for a long time made him accustomed to long periods of time without food, but without water he still hasn't gotten used to.

As his eyes fell upon the salad, Leto quickly picked it with both hands and began wolfing it down as if it were his last meal, completely ignoring his fork. Who knows, perhaps it really is. Leto briefly wondered if Hadriana had finally left him in peace. It was almost absurd, as she'd barely left him a night a week in peace at best, sometimes none at all. Perhaps she was finally starting to soften up with Hawke's presence... the very thought of it almost made him chuckle.

_'Hawke...'_ thought Leto as his mind traveled to the strange girl curiously as well as her odd and rather childish behaviours and quirks. He remembered the first time when he'd opened his eyes when they first met, the way her eyes lit up, as if she was greeting someone she'd been friends with for years. Leto was no stranger to body language, he had learned to read it and picked up on people's subconcious signals. It was very useful when gathering information if you were able to tell if one was lying or not. Despite this, he was still wary and suspicious of this Hawke girl, even if he sensed no evil about her. Female mages were coquettish women, who were able to slip on any mask or disguise should they so chose with the help of magic, whether it be a mask of innocence and fragility, or one of power and intimidation. This Hawke woman was just the same. His eyes narrowed as he slurped down the food, remembering how he saw Danarius and Hawke's hands entwined when he was preparing food for their guests. They had become close rather quickly, he mused bitterly.

He continued to gulp down the food, not bothering for manners or even savouring the taste. After all, what were manners worth when one was slowly dying of malnutrion? Leto felt the food speed through his system rapidly, his body finally quenched of its thirst for food.

"My my... not only do you look like a dog, but you eat like one as well?" a familiar, goose-bump-inducing voice slithered through the darkness, disrupting Leto's peaceful late dinner. He stopped mid-swallow, looking up into the darkness. A tall, lithe figure stepped through into the light that the window shone on the floor, illuminating her clear, snow-like skin. She moved closer and closer to Leto, her shadow swallowing up his figure. She smirked down at him superiorly, one hand resting on her hip. He slowly put down his half-finished salad, looking up at her expectantly.

''Had a good dinner, 'Little Wolf'? Was it tasty?" asked Hadriana mockingly, her eyes narrowing into small slits. Leto sat up, his head bent down submissively. He had stopped opposing her, knowing that she would get bored much faster if he'd make like a rag doll and be unresponsive to her words or actions. His silence however, only make Hadriana press further. She crouched down neatly, her eyes burning holes into Leto's forehead, watching him shrink away from her slightly, and she smiled. He feared her. He tried to show her otherwise, but the way he grimaced spoke volumes of just how much power he realized she had over him. Suddenly, she grabbed a handful of Leto's raven hair, pulling his face up so that he could face her. Pain shot to the roots of his hair and he bit the inside of his lip, resisting the urge to howl from the pain.

"Tell me," asked Hadriana, her fingers still entangled in his hair," what did a worthless, filthy dog like you do to deserve a full stomach? Hmm?"

Leto didn't answer, his eyes downcast. Hadriana rolled her eyes at his lack of answer, then dropped his hair, watching him grunt unpleasantly. She barked at him again.

"I know! You've made friends with the new girl, haven't you? Little Fenris made a friend!" cackled Hadriana, clapping her hands mockingly.

"I haven't the slightest idea of what you mean," croaked Leto, confused, as he cradled his hair soothingly.

"Don't lie to me, elf," snapped Hadriana, slapping Leto in the face harshly, the sound resonating throughout the attic," you know full well what I mean. You've made friends with her, didn't you? Why else would she bring a fleabag like yourself her own dinner?"

Leto frowned, confused. The new girl... did she mean Hawke? So it wasn't Hadriana that brought him dinner, but it was Hawke? It would make sense... she tried to give it to him before, but he refused out of suspicion. Why was she so persistant in gaining his trust? Hadriana slapped him again, interrupting that thought, her eyes throwing spears at him with her glare. Leto shut his eyes tightly from the impact.

"Answer me, worm!" barked Hadriana, spitting into Leto's face. He cracked open his eyes, his mouth set into a tight line.

"I neither am friends with Hawke nor do I know why she would bring me dinner, mistress," he muttered bitterly. Hadriana paused, her eyes narrowing, then looked down beside Leto, where the unfinished salad stood.

"It does not matter why she brought you undeserved food. But Little Wolf, you are far too spoiled. You have no need for this, now, do you Fenris?" she asked tauntingly, standing up with her foot dangerously close to the tray of food. Leto gulped hungrily, his stomach still aching for some more, even if just a tiny bit more. He stared up at Hadriana weakly, but resolutely. He would not allow his weakness deter his pride, and he bit back the urge to beg for food. He was not that weak.

"No, mistress," he forced himself to say. Hadriana smiled, pulling back her foot and kicking out, her foot colliding with the unfinished food, the salad components flying up into the air and hitting the dusty floor, gathering dirt and rendering it unedible. The empty glass also flew, crashing noisily against a large barrel, the sharp pieces lying down on the ground. The roots and other food lay ruined as well, collecting germs and dirt that Leto's boots often left on the floor.

Leto looked towards the ruined food longingly, lamenting to himself how something so appetizing was ruined so quickly and so easily. His thought was interrupted as he was suddenly lifted into the air by an invisible force. His hands scrambled in the air, trying to grasp the ground in vain, as his eyes met with Hadriana's again, her expression cruel and ruthless. She maintained Leto in the air with her magic, one hand held up to contain the spell, and another down at her side.

"We haven't had our little nightly session tonight, have we, Fenris? I mean, I can't let you go thinking that you're worth anything more than the lowest scum on earth, can I now?" she asked, her mouth twisting into that familiar, promising smile. She then used her other hand to immobilize him as Leto didn't answer. She was in a _bad_ mood.

'_Just let her do what she will, do not resist,'_ he reminded himself, grinding his teeth as he struggled to resist pinning her to the ground in anger. The immobilization spell hit him with a shock, feeling as if an electrical current was running through him, igniting his every bone one second, and then the next, he was frozen, a cold feeling washing over him. He could only move his eyes. Hadriana chuckled, watching Leto bound hand and foot by invisible ropes, rendering him unable to move, levitating in the air. She only wished she could show Master Danarius her work with combining spells on Leto, but she knew he would disapprove of anyone other than himself harming Leto. He had already expressed his distaste about 'worrying' Fenris.

"Tell me, why are you such a weakling? Being a bodyguard, you're supposed to be strong and powerful, yet you're nothing but a puny elf who can't even withstand a few days without food? What use are you to Master Danarius?" she barked loudly as he glanced at her through the air expectantly. He knew better than to answer. One wrong word and Hadriana would throw him into a world of agony. WIth silence, at least he had a chance at getting off easy.

"Not going to answer me, Little Wolf? That's alright, I haven't come here to talk," she said smiling," We're going to test that so-called 'strength' of yours."

With that, Hadriana muttered something under her breath, and Leto heard a small sound of glass sliding against the wooden floor. He looked out of the corner of his eyes, being unable to move, and saw the shard remains of the glass raise off of the floor, the pointy tips gleaming threateningly, making Leto feel very uncomfortable. He watched as the twenty-something shards floated up above the ground, many of them turning so that their pointed side was facing him. A particularly large, pyramid-shaped shard glared at him. Leto braced himself as the shards shot forward towards his helpless form.

Leto's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as the glass broke through his skin and plunged into his bloodstream. He howled, feeling the glass tear open his protective outer layer at every angle, the strength of the outbreak of his repressed emotions breaking Hadriana's immobilization spell, as he felt his limbs retrieve the ability to move again. His entire body, especially his torso, was numb from the scorching agony that the shards inflicted on him.

Leto's eyes shut suddenly, trying to block out the feeling. The shards pulled back out of his being, only to strike him again, deeper than the last time. He struggled as Hadriana cast another immobilization spell on him, rendering his body motionless. He felt the glass shards continue to strike him in the air, and he caught sight of one, completely painted in his blood, bile rising in his throat. A feeling of cold washed over the hot pain of the shards as dozens of trickles of blood made its way down his skin.

Hadriana smiled callously at the way he clenched his teeth, impressed by the strength of her own magic as the 'strong' and 'powerful' Fenris, as Master Danarius called him, was overpowered by her so easily. She was empowered by the way someone who looked so intimidating could crumble at the simple flick of her finger. It made her feel strong, a twisted happiness that embodied her the entire time she was apprentice to Master Danarius. He was pathetic and weak, a disgusting piece of filth beneath her boots, while she was a powerful and beautiful sorceress, able to bend anyone to her will should she so desire.

Satisfied with this boost of confidence, Hadriana snapped her fingers, and the shards of glass clattered to the floor loudly, freeing themselves from Leto's skin and breaking into even smaller pieces as they hit the floor. Leto gasped for air, his desperation breaking her immobilization spell once more. He continued to be held in place in the air by Hadriana, as he floated in the air helplessly, waiting for Hadriana to finally let him go.

"Want me to let you go, little Fenris?" she asked in a sugary voice, as if reading his mind. Leto paused slightly, looking up at her weakly.

"... yes mistress," he croaked out barely audibly. Hadriana smirked widely as she removed the levitation spell from Leto, watching as he fell four feet back onto the ground...

...with his face landing onto the remaining shards of glass.

"Mmmpph!" Leto cried out, his jaw hitting the floor with a sickening crunch, feeling the shards of glass stab into his face deeply. He yowled, feeling blood line in his mouth and dribble down his chin. Hadriana giggled quietly as she exited the attic, satisfied with her entertainment for tonight. Leto heard her fading footsteps as his hand clutched his jawbone, feeling around for anything out of place. His other hand felt around his face for the pieces of glass, seething loudly as his hands plucked out the pieces of glass one by one. He was thankful that at least he hadn't gotten any in his eyes, although one was dangerously close, on his upper cheek. Most of the shards were situated on his lower cheeks and jaw, which felt extremely swollen and pained.

Leto struggled to sit up, pushing himself against his arms, forcing his weary body to sit up. He wiped off the blood that slid down his chin with his sleeve, and then pulled out the remainder of the shards, flinching and frowning as they painfully departed from his skin. He cursed Hadriana under his breath, cursing her from the body of his soul, but moreso, he cursed mages and their power. He hated how all of his considerable strength was effortlessly overpowered by the sheer strength of one single mage's power. Danarius would disapprove, indeed, being defeated once again by a _female_ mage.

He doubled over, feeling his stomach rise up his system, and quickly became sick, opening his mouth to vomit and howled in pain as his swollen jaw unclenched agonizingly, and he emptied the contents of his stomach rapidly, closing his mouth shut afterwards, eager to rid himself of the pain. He looked down afterwards sorrowfully, regretting that he threw up the last good meal he would likely have in a while. Leto felt around his jaw, the mandible feeling sore. Leto frowned. Did he fracture it?

_'I shall have to treat this,'_ thought Leto. Asking Danarius seemed like the best bet, although he may receive some skeptical questions about how he got a damaged jaw. He decided he would simply say he'd accidentally tripped on the stairs, although it marred Leto's pride to pretend to be a klutz. Danarius would likely chide him – possibly even deny his break time between breakfast and lunch, but he would quickly heal him, as he disliked it when Leto bore wounds that were not inflicted by him. He would only have to wait until morning, after he'd served everyone's breakfast, for Danarius was not a morning person. Leto strained to sleep, grunting uncomfortably from the weight of his swollen jaw and the dull pain from his open wounds. He roughly tied up the largest wounds and ignored the small ones with cloth torn from his oversized work clothes, coping with the pain by trying to sleep in a rather awkward position. He would not let one small mage make him weak. Even if there was no way he could defend himself, he would still stand tall despite being the plaything of a twisted, callous mage. He was, after all, Danarius' slave and bodyguard.

* * *

><p>Hawke's eyes cracked open, coming face to face with the blinding sun that was peering through the glass of her elegant curtained window. She yawned, wondering if her mother had yet prepared some breakfast, or if Bodahn had any new letters for her on her desk. As soon as the sleep was wiped from her eyes, however, it quickly became obvious to her that she was nowhere near her mansion in Hightown. Nowhere near Kirkwall, in fact. She sat up, taking in the snowy paradise that was her room. Well, it was a snowy paradise with multiple scorch marks here and there. Falling back against her pillow in exasperation. So it wasn't just a dream after all.<p>

_'Here I thought that this was just a bad, one and a half day-length nightmare, where I lose my voice and become apprentice to an insane radical mage,'_ thought Hawke to herself sarcastically. She got up again, her feet curling up in what was left of the carpet, taking in the soft feeling. Her chunky, white heeled shoes lay on the floor, reminding Hawke of her little... excursion the night before. She quietly smiled to herself, wondering if he had enjoyed her food. The image of a fat, bloated Fenris came into her mind, and she giggled to herself silently, imagining him stuff himself silly. It was an amusing image, but truly a sad reality. Hawke wondered sadly just how long he'd last eaten. Sometimes he would turn himself just so, and Hawke was able to see his ribs poke out of his baggy slave clothes.

A knock sounded in Hawke's ears, and her head turned towards the door. She suddenly remembered that he was supposed to bring her breakfast and dinner every day, and she skipped over to the door, opening it invitingly. As soon as she peered out to greet the one person in the mansion that she didn't hate, however, her eyes widened.

Leto stood before her and looked even worse than he did before. His face was still gaunt, but that was not what shocked Hawke most. Inch-deep puncture wounds covered his entire lower face, and Hawke noticed that his jaw looked strange; it was almost entirely swollen. He himself, however, made no indication of pain.

"Hawke," he acknowledged curtly, and Hawke noticed that he'd said it strangely, almost as if it pained him to talk.

She grabbed his hand, avoiding the one that carried the platter with breakfast, and ushered him inside. His eyes narrowed at the contact as he tried to pull away gently from her hand. Hawke couldn't help rolling her eyes, closing the door behind them. Hawke pointed to the cuts on his face with a questioning look.

"I simply fell. There's no concern needed. I shall be fine soon enough," mumbled Leto coldly, avoiding Hawke's gaze. She inspected him unbelievingly, her fingers inching towards his face to take a closer look at his wounds. Leto flinched and caught her hand gently before it made contact with his face. Hawke noticed the way he had difficulty speaking.

"Please, I'm simply here to deliver your breakfast, mistress. Do not concern yourself with my well-being," he almost whispered, his eyes narrowing in pain as he spoke, moving away from her. It sickened him to have been reduced to this state, like a little child with skinned knees. He placed the platter on her desk, eyeing the two empty bowls of soup standing on it, making a mental note for himself to remove them later for washing. Hawke huffed frustratedly at his stubborness. Why did he have to be so difficult?

_'I want to help you, ya ungrateful little...'_ she trailed off in her mind. She exhaled calmly as he turned back towards the door, his task complete.

"Master Danarius shall see to you in a matter of minutes," he said, moving towards the exit. Hawke grabbed Leto suddenly by the shoulders and yanked him to face her. She held him in place and gave him a once-over, before she inspected his jaw.

_'It looks a bit swollen, maybe even fractured. I might need an injury kit for this,'_ thought Hawke to herself. She pushed Leto onto his shoulders, and he sat down on the bed grudgingly. Despite his reluctance, he was taught to do what his betters told him to do. He watched as the young woman inspected him, like an alchemist studying an unknown, exotic ingredient. She motioned for him to bare his teeth, and he did so grudgingly. Amidst her inspection, she noticed how he stared at her suspiciously, calculating her every move, as if she had an ulterior motive to her wanting to heal him. She tried to ignore it. Knowing the kind of torture he's endured here, she knew that gentleness was key. Her hot temper would not be beneficial in this situation. She finished inspecting his teeth, seeing as how they were not aligned out of place. She closed his mouth, looking for any lopsidedness or unevenness, finding none.

_'It's just bruised really badly, not broken. I can simply heal him with a stronger spell_,' thought Hawke studiously. Slowly, she pressed her hand to his jawline, near where the most swollen area was, remembering the incantation in her mind. She lightly brushed her thumb against the corner of his lips, watching his shiver slightly from the unexpected contact. Leto pulled away from her hand, narrowing his eyes at her with distaste and distrust.

"What are you doing, mistress? _Healing_ a slave?" he asked harshly, ignoring the pain in his bruised jaw, his eyes filled with something that he had never looked at her with before.

Hate of mages.

This was where it all began, she realized, where Fenris had learned to hate all mages, regardless of good intent, of good mental health, and of benevolence. He never showed it, and had always repressed this feeling, but the seed of hate simply grew and grew in him until it sprouted. The cuts and bruises that he had to prove their abuse was only fuel to the fire. He stared at her intently, waiting for an answer that would not come. She could only communicate through her eyes, which were filled with nothing but sadness.

_'You don't hate who I am, Fenris, you hate WHAT I am,'_ she thought to herself sadly. How could she possibly show him that she only wanted to help him? That she wanted to feed him and heal him and protect him from_ that monster_? That she was not like other mages? That she didn't deserve his scrutiny and had the purest intentions?

"I do not need nor do I care for your friendship, mage, thus you need not pretend to be like an angel. You are born a mage: a ruthless animal who does everything in her power to receive what she wants, and your kind would even stoop so low as to even offer false friendship to get what she desires. I am powerless to two of you; I shall not become victim to your lies as well," Leto growled, his hand on his aching jaw. Brave words, but Hawke saw nothing but fear in his eyes. Confusion suddenly sparked up in her mind. Powerless to _two._..? Did he mean Hadriana abused him as well? She recalled how she mentioned that they had a _close connection..._

It was then that her temper fueled again at his prejudice, and she huffed frustratedly once more, but Leto didn't seem to pay attention. He curtly stood up and left the room, not looking back once as he shut the door behind him. Hawke's eyes became annoyed slits as she picked up a charred pillow and threw it at the door. It was at that moment that the door opened again, revealing a tall figure.

Danarius walked in just as the pillow hit his face, offering him a mouthful of feathers. Hawke gasped inaudibly as she scooted back onto her bed, pulling her covers over her as she pretended to be asleep. Danarius cleared his throat, ignoring the pillow which had plopped onto the ground.

"Ahem..." began Danarius, raising an eyebrow," little Kitten, I am quite pleased to see that you have become comfortable in my mansion. Strange, I have only just passed little Fenris on my way to your dorm. He had the most disagreeable expression sitting on his lovely face. I believe that is of your doing, yes?" he asked Hawke, approaching her with a twisted smile as always. She peered up at him with hate, mustering the most fearsome expression that she possibly could. Danarius only laughed.

"Is that the same expression you equipped when my little Fenris was bringing you breakfast, hmm? Surely that is why he left so disturbedly," he chuckled, sitting on the bed at Hawke's feet.

"Little Kitten, I must ask, do not worry my little Fenris. He is not fond of... well, physical contact on a whole. In a matter of weeks, he shall be entering an intense competition. Please do not worry him, yes?" he asked her, the smile never leaving his face, half-intimidating, half-mocking. Hawke continued to stare at him spitefully, until she suddenly spat him in the face. The transparent liquid hit his upper cheek. Danarius did not falter, his smile only growing as he wiped it off his cheek nonchalantly.

"Spirit. How I shall enjoy breaking you, my little Kitten. Every tiger has a small kitten inside of her. I shall tame you and make you into the defenseless feline you truly are," he grinned, a twisted expression of excitedness coming onto his face. Hawke's eyes widened.

_'You're a sick, demented man,'_ she thought to herself, afraid. He smiled at her frightened expression and he patted her head.

"Do not trouble yourself. We shall see to training the inner you later. I have come to tell you that today we shall be visiting the marketplace for some necessities. You are to come along. Do not stray off little kitten, for hounds are at every corner, so you best stay close to us," he warned, wagging his thick finger at her.

"Afterwards, we shall have our first learning session. I trust that you and Hadriana get along, yes? Of course you do," he said, watching Hawke bore holes into his face with her eyes.

"But for now, enjoy your breakfast. We have much to do today, my little Kitten, thus I suggest you sleep while you may. My Fenris shall come to inform you later," he explained, as he lifted himself off the bed, walking off to the door. As he pulled it open to exit, he turned back.

"Rest well, little kitten. Do not be naughty while your papa is away!" he called as he shut the door behind him. Hawke groaned to herself, shaking with exasperation from the whole situation. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

><p>There you have it, chapter four (: Hope you enjoyed!<p>

R&R!


	5. An Unexpected Interlude

**SHACKLE BOUND**

Summary: Hawke tampers with Merrill's eluvian one day and is magically transported back to the past, much to her horror and confusion. What happens when she finds out she'd been transported to Danarius' mansion, where a certain elven slave is held? Slightly AU.

Rated: M for disturbing content.

Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort

Fenris x Hawke

Welcome back (:

Thank you for the reviews! Especially from Cooltatertot, your review made me blush :$ Chapter five is here!

I'm sorry for the delay; I've been working on a new story project. It's a revenge fic about Fenny and should be done soon, check it out ;)

'_Spectrum'_ chapter 3 is about 4,000 words strong. Another 2,000 and it shall be done.

Enjoy!

"Words."

'_Thoughts, dreams, memories, emphasis.'_

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><p>"Kitten, do try to keep up, little one. We cannot keep stopping for the benefit of your tired little paws."<p>

Hawke glared up at the source of the voice as she rubbed her ankles, trying to shift into her high-heeled white shoes more comfortably. Even her mother never forced her to wear these tight, uncomfortable, clunky contraptions back home, even for formal evenings. How on earth was she to walk normally in these?

Worse yet, Danarius told her that she was to be given no other shoes to walk in; these were her only ones. The _horror._

Leto coughed, trying to hide his smirk at Danarius' choice of name for Hawke as he walked in front of them, arms filled with supplies.

_'Kitten. How fitting,'_he thought to himself amusedly. Hawke, on the other hand, did not look so pleased.

"Oh come now, Kitten. The shoes make you look very becoming if I say so myself. You are of such small stature; a proper magister is tall and intimidating. Come now; raise that chin of yours higher. Higher, I say," scolded Danarius as they entered the mansion, with Hawke limping beside him. Leto was holding the door for them with his back, carrying numerous packages and things that Danarius had bought at the bustling market.

Tevinter was exactly as Hawke predicted it to be: grey, with polished architecture and the Tevinter shield crest on every nook and cranny. The lawns and gardens were cut so perfect and sharp that all originality had been washed from it, and it became simply another decoration added to the millions amidst the mansions. The cobblestone roads spiraled around, leading to different places, with large, elegant signs helpfully pointing this way or that. Whereas Kirkwall was grey in an interesting way, Minrathous was so perfect and crisp, that it became incredibly dull after a while.

Hawke walked inside the crystal-clean mansion, taking in a deep breath at the familiarity of the place, despite her hating the owner of the mansion. She collapsed onto the floor, shifting into a cross-legged position and practically peeled the annoying shoes off, once and for all. She made a triumphant face and stood up, taking in the feeling of her bare feet on the cold floor as Danarius watched her amusedly. Leto shut the door behind them silently, his face down, placing on the floor the handfuls and handfuls of purchases, many of them being spell books, materials, cauldrons, as well as tools for blood rituals, all for Hawke's studies. She had repeatedly denied the blood ritual tools, but Danarius insisted, chiding her and calling her 'cowardly', buying her the items anyways. She had her new apprentice staff strapped to her back.

"Kitten, your studies begin in half of an hour. At three, we begin with your first lesson, and then afterwards, I expect you to come this evening and entertain our guests with your presence. No monkey business, is that clear?" instructed Danarius with the same threatening undertones that Hawke was only beginning to become accustomed to. She looked at Danarius dully, giving him no answer. He, however, paid no attention to Hawke and instead turned to Leto.

"Fenris my boy, I have need of you to make sure Lady Kitten comes to the study room on time. We shall await her there," he said and Leto bowed his head compliantly. Hawke noticed that he seemed to have become less sickly-looking. Perhaps their visit to the marketplace had granted him much needed fresh and energy, Hawke thought. The cuts from this morning had also disappeared, as well as the swelling on his jaw.

"In addition, I expect you to bring these new purchases to Lady Kitten's room immediately," ordered Danarius. Leto nodded and began to pick up the many piles of spell books in his arms, amazed at how he single-handedly managed to carry all of this in one trip from the marketplace to the mansion. His tired arms could only carry half of it, and Leto decided that he would make two trips to Hawke's room. Hawke made to help carry a portion, but Leto shook his head. He did not want nor need her help.

Danarius made his way up the stairs, watching as the two walked to Hawke's room.

"Do not forget the groceries, boy!" reminded Danarius.

Hawke held the door open as Leto trudged inside to place Hawke's new spell books inside. He practically dropped them onto her desk as he took in a deep breath from the exertion. He was still amazed at how his arms haven't dropped off his shoulders yet from the weight of the supplies. Hawke sat on the bed, watching him curiously. Leto paused for a moment, looking up as Hawke tapped against the wall with her finger to get his attention.

"Yes, Hawke?" he asked, reluctantly. What did she want now?

Hawke motioned to herself, and then the door with her fingers, then made a walking motion with her index and middle finger. Leto frowned, squinting at her gestures, not understanding. Hawke let out a little sigh and pointed out of the door again, and then to herself.

"You want to... walk around?" he asked confusedly. She smiled and nodded, pleased. Leto let out a sigh. This woman was the most infuriatingly curious thing in Thedas. He'd already given her a tour, yet it still took all of his strength to hold her back from running off and exploring the huge mansion when he was showing her around. Hadriana was never like this. She was straightforward, never letting the thirst for adventure overcome the thirst for what was most important: power. This one, however, was truly odd.

"Very well... as you wish. So long as you remember the rules: Master Danarius' room is off limits. I'll come for you soon," said Leto exasperatedly. Hawke hopped off the bed and skipped out of the room, leaving Leto to shake his head in wonder. What kind of magister will this girl be? She hadn't the temperament nor the personality.

_'Or perhaps she does,'_ thought Leto bitterly as he headed back for the second handful of supplies,'_but simply masks it under a veil of innocence. Clever girl if so.'_

He decided not to think of it anymore as he brought the second handful back to Hawke's room, placing the assortments of spell books_,_exercise books, cauldrons, and a toolset for blood rituals. He remembered how adamant Hawke was against the stuff, but Danarius bought it for her anyways. He said that she must learn to accept the ways of the Imperium, moral or not. She looked on the verge of throttling Danarius, the way her lips were clasped so tightly and how she glared at Danarius, probably silently imagining how many different ways she could kill him. Leto felt a smirk tug at his lips at the thought. It did impress him slightly, however, that she seemed so against tampering with blood magic.

As he went to go place the food products away in the kitchen, he reminded himself that he should soon go fetch Hawke to escort her to her lesson. Knowing her, she would do everything in her power not to go to class. Leto grabbed the few packages of cheese, bread, and fruits that there were, along with several bottles of wine. He'd caught the labels of several familiar bottles that he knew were Danarius favorites as he placed them on the kitchen counter, putting away the supplies in the cupboards and shelves. As soon as he placed the last wheel of cheese away, he looked back to where the wine bottles stood, proudly atop the counter. He would need to go put them in the storeroom upstairs. Taking a deep breath, Leto picked up the wine bottles in his large hands and trudged to the grand staircase.

As he ascended up the sizable steps of the staircase tiredly, Leto counted the days left until the slave competitions. Twenty-four days and he would be pitted against some of the strongest slaves in the Imperium, competing against each other to be the subject of experimentation. It was ironic, really. He was competing for more pain; the very thing he tried to avoid, and yet he still did so for the boon it promised: freedom for his mother and sister. Not once did he stop and think about himself, however. What would become of him once he had been experimented upon? Would he die? Lyrium was a very dangerous material, especially when unprocessed. The thought of the mineral being carved and etched into his flesh made him feel discomfort. No doubt it would not only hurt, but also leave marks not only on his body, but on his mind as well. It frightened him, although he never showed it, or even admitted it to himself.

Leto reached the top of the stairs and walked to the storeroom, thankful for what seemed the hundredth time that the storeroom was not far from the staircase. He entered the room quietly, making no noise as he knew that the study room was close by, and he didn't want Hadriana yelling in his ear for disturbing her lesson. He placed the wine bottles in the rack, taking care to organize each type by row. The Agreggio was in the top row, being Master Danarius' favorite wine of course.

As soon as Leto finished replenishing the wine rack, he remembered that Hawke was supposed to be at the study room soon for her first lesson. Leto chuckled mentally as he imagined how that would go, and knew that by evening, the study room would probably be a heap of rubble.

He suddenly groaned, regretting letting her go explore the mansion. The challenge now would be to find the girl.

_'Where would be the most fascinating place in the entire mansion...?'_ thought Leto to himself, figuring out where Hawke would go. As soon as the thought entered his mind, he froze. The most fascinating place in the mansion...

_'No...'_ thought Leto as his blood ran cold. He turned around and practically ran to his destination, his long lanky legs carrying him briskly.

If Danarius found out, he would have them both quartered.

Leto's mind raced as he ran towards the master bedroom, praying to whomever was up there that Hawke wasn't foolish enough to tamper with the things in Danarius bedroom. He had told her time and time again that Danarius' room was off limits, watching her look off into the distance uninterestedly while he would sigh frustratedly. This girl had no understanding of boundaries.

He almost skidded to a stop in front of the door and checked around, making sure Danarius was no where in sight. Tentatively, he took a peek inside the room, spying for Hawke. His eyes fell upon her immediately. The shock of short black hair against the white of the surroundings of Danarius' room was hard to miss.

"Hawke!" he seethed loudly, trying his hardest not to scream at her. If Danarius heard them and came over, he would make sure that pain would come to both of them. He did not like people touching his things. Hawke perked up at his voice, turning around briskly and looking at him, her eyes wide. She seemed just as shocked, if not more, than Leto. He spotted her standing near the eluvian, Danarius' newest trinket from one of their more recent missions when they went searching for those elven slave rebels in the Arlathan forest. Leto gritted his teeth angrily as he marched over to her and grabbed her arm harshly, squeezing it so hard that it nearly cut off the circulation. Hawke opened her mouth to protest vainly.

''Are you _insane_?" he spat spitefully at her, "Must I follow you everywhere, like a parent to a child, to ensure that you're abiding the rules of this mansion?"

Hawke cowered slightly from his voice, but she looked alarmed, pulling away defiantly and making strange gestures to him with her hands. She pointed to the eluvian, then to herself, and then made an oval-shaped hole with her middle finger and thumb, and then used her other hand as if to fly through the hole. Leto's eyes narrowed into slits. So help him, he would_make_ her understand that in this house, she was shackle bound by the rules. As was he, for there was no room for freedom.

"You are a _fool_, Hawke. If I cannot make you understand with words, then I shall do so with force!"

He yanked her by the arm again, pulling her up towards him so that she was out of reach of the mirror. Were it any other circumstance, Leto would have shifted uncomfortably from the sudden proximity. She gasped as he pulled her to him unexpectedly, tripping over her own feet and twisting her right ankle at a sickening angle, gasping from the pain. She fell forward, and Leto snapped out of his anger, eyes widening as she fell forward. His arms flung out on impulse to catch her just before she hit the carpet.

Leto held her in disbelief, listening to her suck in her breath at the clenching agony in her ankle. He had just hurt his master's apprentice. Guiltily, he looked down at the girl grasping her ankle in his arms. She breathed heavily, her eyes tightly shut, maintaining the pain. It was most unwise to bring her to master Danarius in this state. She needed rest. Leto frowned to himself. He'd behaved like an animal, he realized with shame. Then again, he _was_ an animal, or so he was told.

He bent down gently to take her in his arms. She gasped and her eyes flew open as she felt herself being lifted off the ground, her bare feet leaving the embrace of the white fur carpet, no longer entangled in the pleasant prison. Leto wrapped his arm under her shoulders and his other arm around her lower back, his large fingers settling into the fabric comfortably. He silently carried her, making sure her sprained ankle dangled slightly but did not get caught in anything.

'_He's being unusually gentle, compared to how he just was,'_ thought Hawke to herself, scrutinizing him. What was that all about, anyways? The question sat in her mind.

Only moments before he had been ranting and raving at her angrily, reprimanding her for ignoring the rules. She really couldn't help it, honestly she couldn't. She was a free spirit; it was no use caging birds that were meant to fly. Rules, after all, were meant to be broken. Despite this, she was rather annoyed that he didn't even try to understand her. This entire situation made Hawke realize what a valuable tool a voice really was, for the communication barrier was becoming irritating.

They reached a door, and Leto kicked it open, ignoring the bang it made on the wall, making Hawke perk up at the noise. She saw white walls and a rather empty room, except for a large stone tub near the edge of the room, with several soaps and bottles sitting on a small rack near it: a bathroom. Leto placed her gently sitting up on the white marble floor as he turned his back towards her and shuffled towards the rack, looking for something. Hawke eyed him curiously as he made his way back to her, eyes downcast. He avoided her gaze as he opened the item he acquired: a miniature injury kit. Opening it, he pulled out a white bandage.

"Where is the sprained area?" Leto asked her, eyes dodging hers. She gingerly pointed to her right ankle and flinched slightly as his calloused hands lifted the smarting limb and began to wrap the white bandage around her ankle. Hawke watched in awe as for the first time, Leto displayed the emotion she least saw from either him or Fenris: regret. He slipped the white material around her ankle with care, making sure that it wasn't too tight or too loose.

"…I am sorry…" he said, his voice barely just above a whisper. He was, yet he did not know why. This woman had been nothing but trouble for him ever since she came to the mansion, yet he was still sorry. Rarely did he ever feel regret at hurting a mage. Perhaps it was because she had given him her dinner without asking for anything in return. He concluded to himself silently that that must have been the reason.

Hawke visibly relaxed as the pain dulled. She had heard his apology muttered under his breath and smiled to herself. He was _so_ soft; he didn't even know it. It was a little amusing, truth be told. Her ankle was sprained, yes, but not bad enough that it needed to be wrapped. She however had no complaints, instead reveling in the familiar feel of his calloused fingers, shivering slightly as they came in contact to her exposed flesh against the chilly air of the bathroom.

Leto finally ripped the white bandage apart from the body of the rest of the bandage and tied it tightly against Hawke's ankle. His thoughts traveled to this morning, when Danarius had healed his cuts and swollen jaw. He had been surprised to find that Danarius asked no questions, simply healing the cuts and passively inspecting his jaw with his fingers, deeming it not broken. He had shuddered unpleasantly when his fingers traveled further than was necessary, and Leto remembered the moment uncomfortably.

Hawke dangled her wrapped ankle freely as Leto let go of it, enjoying the comfortably feeling of the quality bandage against the dull pain in her ankle. He stood up and Hawke looked up at him, mouthing a 'thank you' with a charming smile on her face. He held out his hand and Hawke grasped it, letting him pull her up helpfully.

"We must go to the study room. We are no doubt late for your first lesson. Master Danarius shall be waiting," said Leto, turning back and walking out the door, his gentle mood gone. To his surprise, he heard footsteps behind him, signaling that Hawke was following him to class. Hawke rolled her eyes at his words, but felt a smile tug at the corner of her lips.

'_Mood spoiler,'_ she thought fondly to herself.

* * *

><p>"Ah, Kitten! Such tardiness, little one, is unacceptable. Come now, have a seat. Quickly, quickly," ushered Danarius as Hawke came into view. Leto had already left as soon as they reached the top of the stairs, deciding that she was well enough to walk on her own after they had fetched her spell books and exercise books. He then went about his own duties. She felt a little lonely without him, but walked on bravely towards the study room, swallowing her pride.<p>

The study room was spacious, with dark grey walls instead of white. A huge, detailed map was stamped across the wall of the room, with a window on either side of it. It looked like it would take two of Hawke to reach the height it reached. There was even a small ladder to reach up to the northern parts of the map. There were a few desks on one side of the room, with a large board filled with chart paper across from it. A large shelf filled with dozens of books stood adjacent to the board, and on the other side of the room, there were a couple of metal dummies, bearing numerous scorch marks and other magical scars.

Danarius stood at the chart board, beckoning towards Hawke to sit at the desk beside Hadriana's. Hawke walked over reluctantly, sitting at the table begrudgingly and looking up at Danarius, her mouth in a tight line. She was incredibly eager to get this over with. Danarius smiled, satisfied.

"Now then, you Kitten shall be learning along with Hadriana at the intermediate level as you clearly are quite acquaintanced with magic. That makes everything far more comfortable, wouldn't you say, Hadriana?" he asked.

"Most certainly master," Hadriana cooed, shooting sarcastic glances at Hawke behind Danarius' back. Hawke's palm enclosed over her face.

'_Sweet baby Andraste…_' thought Hawke exasperatedly,_ 'this is going to be unbearable…'_

* * *

><p>"Another universe, you say?" asked Keeper Marethari as she inspected the mirror questioningly, circling it with a critical eye. Anders sat at the side, holding a book in his arms and reading rapidly from the torn and ratted pages.<p>

"Yes. It appears that she might have severed the order of events in the past simply by her presence. I just can't calculate the damage that she's done however, without knowing where she went to in the past," he explained to her.

Fenris sat by the mirror, inspecting it with Marethari. Varric and Merrill sat by idly, waiting for any impending answer. Anders continued to leaf through the pages until he saw something promising.

"Here," he said," it says that specifically, for eluvians, a connection to the past might be provoked because of a trigger in a fractured or partially damaged mirror."

"Then where could the trigger have been for this mirror?" asked Varric, eyebrows furrowing in contemplation.

"I don't know, but it says here that a mirror is completely unpredictable when fractured, even more so when it is connected with an already broken mirror. That might have been the case with Hawke's mirror."

"We don't even know where she's gone," lamented Merrill.

"There's gotta be a way to find out where the mirror sent Hawke," said Varric determinedly.

"I know not of any possibilities of location Miss Hawke's location in time," said Marethari sadly," but we may attempt to ask a sage or scholar within the Circle of Magi. Perhaps they shall be willing to come help us."

"Perfect. Let us allow yet another mage the opportunity to escape the Circle and wreak havoc all over Kirkwall, and this time Hawke won't be here to stop them," muttered Fenris under his breath spitefully. Immediately Anders' eyes shot up to scowl at Fenris disapprovingly.

"Why is it that whenever mages are mentioned, you just can't keep your mouth shut?" he snarled at Fenris. Merrill sighed and Varric muttered," Here we go again…" under his breath.

"I could ask the same of you, _abomination_," sneered Fenris. The familiar blue glow flashed in Anders' eyes at this insult before it faded. His scowl did not disappear however.

"You always rant about mages escaping the clutches of the tower, even if only temporary, as if that's a bad thing! Wouldn't you want to be outside after being cooped up in a tower your entire life, even if only for a mission? Does it seem right for you to be locked up in one place with no sunlight shining on your face and not being able to even see what the world's like?" Anders barked at Fenris, his patience wearing thin.

"Last I saw, the Kirkwall Circle Tower had windows," stated Fenris flatly. This statement enraged Anders more than anything else. He stood up suddenly, the old book flying off his lap and the blue glow returning in his eyes. Cracks situated themselves amidst his mage robes, glowing a dim blue and illuminating the room slightly. Merrill cowered slightly from his angry posture.

"Oh? So you think _windows_, fucking _**windows**_ are satisfactory freedom for a mage? You think that it makes up for the Circle Tower abuses and disgusting injustices? Do _**windows**_ provide sufficient freedom to mages?"

"Come now, child, that's enough," commanded Marethari in a gentle, but firm voice.

"…yes?" answered Fenris simply. Anders growled loudly, making as if to strangle Fenris, but Marethari was quicker than he, shooting a simple paralyzing spell at him just before he reached over for Fenris' neck. The elf smoothly moved away from the furious paralyzed mage, who was stuck in mid-jump. The spell wore off soon afterwards, and Anders fell to the floor, panting as he caught his breath. The blue glow disappeared from his eyes and he calmed considerably, huffing.

"Young one, you are far too stressed for your age," said Marethari worriedly," please, do not trouble yourself with this. We need not have the scholars come here if that is uncomfortable for the two of you to handle. Instead we may bring the mirror to them, though that may be more difficult than the alternative."

"No, let them come to us," said Anders defiantly. Fenris snorted loudly.

"Geez Blondie…" sighed Varric.

"Let at least one mage have a taste of freedom," he said stubbornly. Marethari sighed and nodded her head.

"We can ask for a meeting with Orsino," said Anders," but… Merrill and I probably shouldn't go. We shouldn't risk it."

"I'd be willing to wager that you would likely burst into tears at the mere sight of the Circle Tower," said Fenris tauntingly. Anders shot him a dangerous glance.

"Don't tempt me, elf," he spat, making a strangling motion with his hands.

"Well then, I think it's all settled then," said Varric suddenly, trying to break up the tension in the air," tomorrow we go to Orsino and see if we can get some help to sort this whole thing out."

"They might take away the eluvian for study," said Merrill worriedly," shouldn't we try and seek an apostate scholar instead?"

Fenris placed his palm against his forehead exasperatedly as Anders scratched his head.

"Where would we find one of those, exactly?"

"I know of one," said Merrill blushingly," he's… a bit odd but I think he's very smart. I met him while shopping in the market. He lives in the outskirts of Kirkwall, sort of like a hermit. He studies elven artifacts at his home, so we can try asking him for help."

Anders sighed," If you think he's trustworthy then we can try giving it a go…"

Merrill beamed," Oh he's very trustworthy! He'll be able to help us, I know it!"

From the side of the room, Fenris groaned. All this confusion and trafficking with mages was making his head hurt. He hoped that wherever Hawke was, she was having a good time, because they were most certainly not.

'… _be safe, Hawke,'_ he thought to himself as he tuned out the chatter of the rest of the group.

* * *

><p>Hawke was <em>not<em> having a good time.

"Hold your staff up higher, Kitten. No, not so crooked, the spell shall not strike right if it is at such an angle. You must learn to control your spells, little one. Fancy displays of powerful magic shall not save you in a life-threatening situation," chided Danarius as she and Hadriana practiced amongst the dummies. The spells clanged against the metal, and she watched as the dummies absorbed the magic, knowing that they're probably magically enhanced themselves to absorb any damage.

"See, just like Hadriana here. Watch how she practices her spells with restraint, reserving her power instead of casting it all in a single shot," explained Danarius, walking over to Hadriana and analyzing her work with approval. Hadriana cast Hawke a superior smirk and Hawke bit back from turning her into stone.

'_She would make__ a pretty good statue,'_ mused Hawke idly.

Already, she had made multiple scorch marks across the room from her clumsy spells, more often than not, they were intentional. She would smirk defiantly as Danarius raised his eyebrows at her questioningly every time she sent a small fireball at the wall. She even managed to scare Hadriana by almost hitting her with a lightning bolt, even though she earned a slap on the face from Danarius afterwards. The look on her face was priceless; well worth the pain of the slap she earned.

"Alright, very well that is enough for today," said Danarius, waving his hands in front of the two girls, signaling a finish. Hadriana obeyed immediately, placing her staff against the wall. Hawke simply stood there expectantly, placing her staff on the floor.

"Kitten, you may leave. I expect by tomorrow: the first twelve pages of the exercise book _'Magical Studies: Volume One'_ completely done. No complaining now, run along," he said to Hawke rather hurriedly, as if he was eager to get rid of her. Hawke decided that the feeling was mutual as she gathered up her books in her arms, walking towards the exit of the study room enthusiastically.

"And work on that hand position!" he called after her. Hawke huffed, stomping out of the room, hearing Hadriana's giggles trailing behind her. As soon as she turned around the corner to get to the staircase, she suddenly remembered that she had left her staff. Hawke turned back to go back to the study room, but a low, coy voice interrupted her thoughts just before she entered the room, and she hid against the wall as she listened closely to Hadriana and Danarius' voices.

"…Come now, _master,_ I've been a good girl and done everything right today, unlike that stubborn Kitten. May I have a rest, please? No homework for tonight?" she heard Hadriana's purring voice seductively asking Danarius. Hawke's eyes widened as she peered into the room.

Hadriana was standing close to the magister, _too_ close to be simply an amiable magister-student communication. She was looking up at him through hooded eyes as Danarius chuckled and ran his fingers through her hair.

"We shall tame her yet, Hadriana, but yes, you have been a good student today. You deserve… a break…" he said in her ear. Hawke doubled over, not knowing whether to laugh hysterically, cry, or vomit. The last option seemed most favorable to her at the moment.

"Oh? I am ever so eager to hear of this… _break_, master," Hadriana giggled in a hushed voice. Hawke saw her hand travel down his chest, lower and lower…

Hawke couldn't look any more. She turned around and marched down the hallway, hoping to get as far away from the disturbing scene as humanly possible, her mind forever ruined. Her staff can wait, she wagered.

"Patience, Hadriana, patience."

Danarius' final words sounded in her mind as Hawke shuddered, trying to erase the image from her mind. She was truly in a _madhouse._

* * *

><p>Leto collapsed onto his bed in the attic. Tonight had been a long night. The entire day, in fact, was chaotic, and he was eager to get a good rest. Hopefully, Hadriana would be too tired to come bother him tonight, for it was quite a busy night with several guests arriving at Danarius' mansion, all chattering amongst themselves about the latest political corruption or arguing about who was the most powerful magister or this or that. The usual battle of which magister was better than the other.<p>

Hadriana was always very lively during these visits, always eager to milk the best impression out of everyone who went through those doors like the social climber that she was. She joined in every conversation constantly, piping in her opinion about everything and anything, clearly having researched what was the most agreeable opinion to have on everything. Hawke, on the other hand, was very quiet. Other than the obvious reason for being so, she simply did not look interested in the magisters. She was civil to them, but that was all. Many of the magisters, specifically Magister Cain, one of the most famous magisters in Tevinter, remarked at the end of the visit of what a 'haughty' and 'dull' girl the Lady Kitten seemed to be, in contrast to the chatty and agreeable Lady Hadriana. Leto smirked to himself. They clearly did not know Hawke.

He fell asleep rather quickly, being exhausted from the day's events as usual, but the nightmares that constantly tailed him would not let him be. Sweat poured down his forehead in small streams and he yelled in his sleep, thrashing around violently and kicking the blanket off him. His eyes suddenly flew open and he gasped

Leto looked in front of him and almost took a double-take. A large platter of food stood before him, filled with untouched Tevinter foods, a glass of water, and most notably, a small slice of pumpkin pie, a treat that he hadn't had since he had been a little lad of three or four. He groaned suddenly, knowing that Hawke must have brought it. She was truly a _persistent_ creature. He had already warned her not to give him any more food when he brought her this very dinner, telling her that both she and he would be punished severely for 'interfering' with the slave's meals. He reprimanded her in his mind. One day, she's going to be the death of him.

But tonight, he decided that he would simply sit back and enjoy this rare pleasure. Leto slowly ate the pumpkin pie, savoring every bite and remembering a time when things were more blissful, more innocent, and more ignorant.

* * *

><p>Hope you enjoyed!<p>

R&R! :)


	6. The Foreigner

**SHACKLE BOUND**

Summary: Hawke tampers with Merrill's eluvian one day and is magically transported back to the past, much to her horror and confusion. What happens when she finds out she'd been transported to Danarius' mansion, where a certain elven slave is held? Slightly AU.

Rated: M for disturbing content.

Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort

Fenris x Hawke

Hello everybody, welcome back (: Thank you for your kind reviews :*

Chapter 6 is up!

Enjoy!

"Words."

_'Thoughts, dreams, memories, emphasis.'_

* * *

><p>The sunlight etched its way into Hawke's sleepy vision as she opened her eyes tiredly. The sun beamed proudly into her face, with all of its rays glistening with promising weather for the day. Hawke smiled contently. These few moments before she got up were the calm before the storm, before she went to go greet the devil. The sun high up in the sky shone at her, granting her some substitute of peace, if only for a while, and Hawke closed her eyes, trying to pull a few more minutes of sleep from time's grasp. Her room was the only place in this chaotic madhouse that granted her any calm, almost like her haven. She let out a contented sigh as her torso sunk into the comfortable mattress once more.<p>

That was when she realized it. Her eyes suddenly shot open as she sat up rapidly to look up at the sun.

_'Shit...'_ thought Hawke as she hopped off her bed. The sun was high in the sky, signaling that it was already the afternoon. She'd slept in!

Quickly, she pulled on her white heels and tried to make herself presentable, combing her black hair with her fingers rapidly and throwing on her white dress, and then buckling up her shoes. She hadn't done a scratch of Danarius' homework last night. He was going to _kill_ her.

Hawke rubbed her eyes tiredly, remembering last night's blurry events. At least a dozen or so magisters had come to Danarius' mansion, all bearing expensive silk robes in all sorts of bright colors, namely gold and royal blue, and decorated with numerous intricate patterns. They'd all gathered at the coffee table, sharing bits of gossip and news as Leto shuffled around, serving them this or that. Danarius himself was seated amongst his guests, laughing at their amusing anecdotes and toasting with them every so often. Hawke only sat meekly at the edge of the group, and few of the magisters paid any attention to her, for which she was glad. She only watched as the group conversed lively, magisters and apprentices alike. One of the magisters had even brought his own slave, a feeble young elven lad with wispy blond hair and frightened blue eyes, who helped Leto serve the guests. They had exchanged few words, but a look of understanding was passed between them every so often.

Hawke snapped out of her contemplation as she finished clasping her shoes. She stood up unsteadily and sighed. She had yet to get used to these... contraptions.

As Hawke wavered slightly, she looked up and saw her tray of breakfast sitting quaintly on her desk, already served. She frowned slightly as she looked around for any sign for Leto. He hadn't woken her?

Slipping quietly into the grand hall, Hawke closed the door behind her quietly. The swan-colored mansion glowed gold with the rays of sunlight spilling in through the expensive glass windows. The paintings on the walls seemed to smile with the cheerful weather. Hawke took a breath before marching down the marble floor. As she neared the middle of the large room, she heard quiet chuckling and jovial chatter and recognized one of the hushed voices to be Danarius'. She squinted as she attempted to make out the other figure sitting on the expensive armchair adjacent to Danarius. As she hurried her steps, the clicking of her heels became more and more audible. Danarius turned back his head to look at Hawke, and the twisted smile was back on his face.

"Ah, good morning my little girl. I trust you have had a good sleep, yes?" he cooed at her. Hawke said nothing of course, instead nodding, with her lips in a tight line. Luckily, he seemed to have forgotten all about her homework.

"Good girl," Danarius praised shallowly," I want you to meet a very special guest of mine."

With that, Danarius nodded to the figure sitting beside him. Hawke turned her head slightly to look at the mysterious guest. The figure was tall and proud, with a long thin black beard running down his chin and along the sharp edge of either side of his jaw, matching the color of his hair, which was pulled back in a low ponytail. His nose was long and prominent, complimenting his features with a very masculine touch. He gave her a welcoming look as he held out his arm to shake, and Hawke caught sight of his rather humble-looking robes, plain blue in color. She furrowed her eyebrows slightly. Who was this man?

"To whom do I owe this pleasure?" asked the stranger in a slippery smooth voice, which Hawke recognized to be rather similiar to Danarius'. Danarius chuckled quietly.

"My new apprentice, Kitten. She's quite the feisty one, if I do say so myself. It was very interesting collaring her, and she resists yet, even without a voice," Danarius replied slyly. Hawke's finger itched to wrap themselves around his throat.

"Little one, this is my former apprentice, Magister Horus. He's a peregrinner, just as you are. He was almost just as difficult to teach, as well," Danarius said, chuckling in mirth. Hawke had no idea what a 'peregrinner' was, but decided to ignore this strange slang as she analyzed the younger magister with scrutiny. He looked little older than thirty, making him an unusually young magister, compared to the other magisters that she'd seen who were at the very least in their mid-thirties. She accepted his hand finally, giving him a stiff shake. Magister Horus smirked in response, his light gray eyes glittering with amusement.

"Sweetling, be a dear and bring us some wine from the storeroom, for little Fenris is away at the moment. Upstairs, next to the study room, _Aggregio Pavali_ please," Danarius commanded, waving his hand away at her. Hawke gave him a confused look. Where_ was_ Fenris?

The possibilities sat in her head as she turned around, dazed, leaving the two men as she headed for the staircase to retreive the bottles of wine

Horus chuckled lightly as she walked away," You treat the poor girl as if she were a slave herself, magister Danarius."

"I am simply training her," stated Danarius. The rest of their conversation became too muffled by distance to hear as Hawke began to ascend the stairs. The two men carried away with conversation, laughing at old times and sharing bits of news and information, mostly about politics. Hawke reverted her attention back to Leto. The elf wasn't here, or so Danarius said. Where could he possibly have gone without Danarius? In addition, Hadriana was nowhere to be seen.

Hawke stepped onto the elevated ground of the second floor, wondering if it was possible that they had both gone someplace. She silently pitied Leto if that was the case as she turned to enter the storeroom, eyes scouting for the wine rack. The storeroom was cool and damp, a stark contrast to the hot sun that leaked in through the windows at the main hallway. Hawke breathed in the pleasant, fresh scent of the storeroom as her eyes fell upon the rather large, spacious wine rack. She walked toward it calmly and looked up at the large structure. Rows and rows of individual shelves sheltered the wine, and it looked like at least a hundred bottles were encased in the rack.

Hawke shuffled around the bottles for the _Agreggio Pavali_, remembering how Fenris told her that he had to pour it for his guests, wondering if he ever had to pour it for Magister Horus. She also recalled Danarius saying that Horus was his former apprentice, and wondered if Leto was there when Horus was still Danarius' pupil.

The familiar label caught Hawke's eyes as she pulled apart the wine bottles from each other on the top shelf, reading the labels._ 'Agreggio Pavali'_ bottles lay on the very top shelf, with the fancy carmine lettering gracing the otherwise plain white label, decorated by green olive branches around the perimeter of the label. Hawke grabbed two bottles out of the top shelf and housed them in her arms, deciding that one would probably not be enough. Danarius was a heavy drinker, as she observed from last night.

Hawke left the storeroom briskly, eager to relieve her arms from the weight of the sizable bottles as she practically hopped down the stairs. She spotted Horus and Danarius holding wine goblets, already awaiting their wine, and couldn't help but roll her eyes.

''Do you see, Horus?" Danarius said as he saw Hawke approaching with the wine in her arms," I almost have her trained. Do you see how compliant she's become? I daresay that she's becoming softer around the edges with each passing day." Hawke glared at him from behind his back as she poured the wine into his goblet, silently imagining setting him on fire. Horus chuckled at her expression from across Danarius.

"You have me convinced, Magister Danarius. Say, where is that rather charming other apprentice of yours?" he asked, looking around, "I believe her name was… Hara? Harriyana?"

"Ah, Hadriana," Danarius said as he sipped his now-filled wine goblet, "She is out and about in the marketplace with my little wolf. She threw quite the fit this morning, demanding some newer, finer mage robes. Hers were a tad scorched from our last learning lesson," he lamented flatly, throwing Hawke an unamused glance. She simply looked back at him innocently, remembering fondly how she scorched Hadriana's robes the day before during the lesson. The mixed feeling of glee and satisfaction pooled into her mind and Hawke couldn't help but smirk giddily as she poured the Agreggio into Horus' cup, placing the two bottles down on a side table. He thanked her with a nod, and Hawke quickly began to notice the difference between the two magisters.

"Now then, my boy, what were you saying about the recent murders?" asked Danarius as he took a sip from his large goblet. Hawke couldn't help but listen in, wondering if she should sit or remain standing. Danarius motioned to her with his fingers to the kitchen, signaling that she should find herself a cup as well. She shook her head defiantly, instead opting to sit on the spacious sofa with Danarius on the far end, as far away from him as possible.

"There was a string of murders just last week, and I suspect they're all connected," said Horus as his eyebrows furrowed worriedly, "All of the victims were of Tevinter blood only. There was even a bystander during the killings who was left alone because of his non-Tevinter blood, simply knocked out. He remembers nothing."

Danarius rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he stared into the distance," Hmm... and who has been killed thus far?"

"Magister Milena and Magister Hart thus far, ser," explained Horus," as well as a handful of Imperial Chantry initiates. All during last week. I am currently investigating the matter with the Black Divine."

"Such a shame," stated Danarius unsympathetically, and Hawke suspected that he was not all that disappointed by their murders. Less competition for Danarius for power, it seemed.

"Indeed. There is currently no information on any possible suspects, but His Grace suspects it to be the cause of yet another rebellion among elven slaves," said Horus, and Hawke detected a hint of pity in his voice.

"It _is_ as I always say: No resistance, no fun," said Danarius, and then chuckled at his own morbid little joke. Horus smirked lightly but looked slightly disturbed at the comment. A small silence ensued between the group, involuntary on Hawke's part. Magister Danarius sipped his wine contently while Horus stared fixated at his own in contemplation.

"Such lovely weather today, is it not?" Danarius commented nonchalantly, and Horus made a sound of agreement.

"Not for long, however. They promised thunderstorms tonight," said Horus. Before Danarius could comment, a sudden bang alerted the three, making Hawke jump up in her seat from the unexpected sound.

"What's this...?" said Danarius, narrowing his eyes and standing up briskly. Horus, too, made a move to stand.

All heads turned towards the door from where the sound originated, where an unrecognizable heap stumbled into the room, pooling carmine blood onto the swan-colored floor and tainting it with its macabre color. A coughing sound emerged from the figure, and Hawke squinted to make it out to be Fenris, who was arching over his ribs, sputtering out blood as he clumsily stepped into the mansion, with a furious Hadriana stomping beside him. She marched towards the group stormily, her expensive silvery shoes clicking against the floor angrily.

"This is an absolute catastrophe!" screeched Hadriana as she threw her hands up into the air, and Hawke quickly noticed a few cuts on her silky white and black dress, without any blood drawn.

"What happened, little lady?" asked Danarius, using his newly-found pet name for her.

"This... embarrassment of a bodyguard," spat Hadriana, pointing at the injured slave spitefully," barely managed to keep away a group of hooligans trying to attack me! Look, master, look at what they did to my dress!"

Danarius and Horus looked at each other, perplexed, while Leto let out a gasp for air, and Hawke spotted him clutching at the sides of his slave clothes, where blood threatened to contaminate the ragged cloth completely. Hawke stood up immediately to rush to Leto's side, breaking into a sprint.

"Where do you think you're going, little one?" inquired Danarius tauntingly, as his arm outstretched to plant a vine spell on her. Green vines emerged from the ground and clasped themselves around Hawke's running feet, halting her sprint as she flew forward, her jaw colliding with the cold floor painfully. She scrambled to her knees, pulling at the vines at her ankles in vain. Danarius stared coldly at her on the floor.

"Can't have you ruining all the fun, can we, Kitten?" he asked rhetorically in his smooth, almost liquid-like voice. Hawke glared up at him and Hadriana, who had her hands on her hips and was looking down at Hawke superiorly. Hawke bared her teeth threateningly, but Danarius paid no more attention to her, instead lifting his head up to look at the gasping Leto.

"Fenris," he called. Leto looked up at him expectantly, with the dreaded carmine liquid streaming down the corner of his lips as he struggled to keep his head up.

"I am disappointed," chided Danarius, with a grim expression on his face. Leto's face fell, and he stopped squirming in pain. When Danarius said to Leto the words "I am disappointed," it usually foreshadowed punishment, and from the stern look in Danarius' usually collected and sarcastic eyes, punishment is sure to come. Leto even forgot about his pain, which was scorching at his sides painfully, feeling the agony eat away at his olive-colored flesh. This pain was little compared to what his master could inflict. Leto hung his head, not sure whether to feel ashamed or angry, or maybe a mixture of both. The girl, Hawke, lay on the floor, pulling at her prison, even resorting to trying to bite it off. Danarius quickly shot another vine spell at Hawke, this time binding her wrists together, rendering them useless.

"Dungeon," stated Danarius simply and emotionless. The word echoed across the silence in the large room, as Leto let down his head and slowly limped with his arm clutching at his ribs, his blood creating a trail from the entrance to the the mouth of the dark doorway to the dungeons. Hawke watched in shock as the elf forced himself to pry the door open and cursed herself silently for never caring to learn a dispel charm, otherwise she wouldn't be in this vine-cased prison. As Leto left the room for the dungeons, Hadrian let out a triumphant sound.

"Serves the little mongrel right, do you not think, master?"

"Hadriana." said Danarius warningly, his voice a tone more gruff than what was usual for him. She looked at him, surprised. Hawke quickly noticed the change in his demeanor, and suddenly realized that this was the cruel Danarius, the Danarius she had not yet seen, the Danarius that was feared in all Tevinter. This was not the sarcastic, twisted Danarius that she'd come to know, but the ruthless, unpredictable Danarius that hurt Leto when backs were turned. He'd thrown off the coat of what little mercy he had in his heart.

"I- I am sorry, master Danarius, I.. I didn't mean..." babbled Hadriana weakly, trying to win back her teacher's favor. She earned only cold silence in response.

"Retreat to your room, young lady," said Danarius coldly. Hadriana looked as if to protest, but Danarius threw her a frightening scowl, and she backed off defeatedly. She turned around and huffed, storming back to her room in anger. Danarius turned his gaze to Magister Horus, who had stood by the entire scene in a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

"I'm sorry, Horus, that you had to see this little drama. Do you see what I have to put up with in this house? It's quite like having three children in this house of mine, and I am the mother," chuckled Danarius as Hawke stared at him in awe. How could he switch personalities so quickly, and with such ease? Even Horus seemed disturbed at his sudden change of mood.

"Quite so... " said Horus, with lack for better words. He seemed to have trouble formulating the right thing to say, for fear of being victim to Danarius' bouts of anger as well.

"Now then, I must unfortunately depart to see to my slave's punishment. I trust you shall keep an eye on this one, yes?" asked the older magister, raising an eyebrow. Hawke felt the threatening undertones drip from his voice and shuddered visibly, wondering how Danarius managed to have so many guests without frightening them all away. Then again, every magister in Tevinter seemed even more messed up than the last.

"As you say, ser," said Horus simply. Danarius nodded, then stalked to the dungeon doors, throwing them ajar and descending down the stone steps into the gloomy darkness that soon engulfed him, preventing Hawke from following him with her eyes. She struggled to scramble out of the grasp of the steel-like vines, pulling and tugging and biting in vain. Horus cleared his throat suddenly, catching her attention.

"It is no use. Danarius' vine spells are his strongest, for I should know. He'd tied me up many a time from when I was an apprentice to prevent me from ditching learning sessions," chuckled Horus fondly. She shot him a pleading look, swallowing her pride for once.

"What's that you want? You want to be rid of the vines? Well, I do not know," said Horus, faking a contemplative look, lifting his hand to rub his chin in false thoughtfulness," Magister Danarius would be awfully angry if I did not listen to his instructions, now, wouldn't he?"

_'What are you, his lackey?'_ Hawke thought spitefully, glaring at him angrily. Why did she ever think he was any different than Danarius? He was just as snake-like as all the other magisters. Quickly, she fumbled with her bound wrists, clumsily untying one of her high-heeled shoes and lifting it up with her hands, threatening to throw it at the smooth-talking magister. He ducked slightly.

"Hey, hey now, no need for violence, Kitten. You _could_ do with a few more manners," said Horus with a small smirk. Hawke threw the shoe, watching it fly into the air and miss Horus by inches, who simply side-stepped out of the way.

"Now now, Kitten, that is no way to act like a lady," he chided, and the woman only spat in his direction. His smirk grew wider.

"You wish to be free that badly?"

Hawke nodded.

"But why? What does that slave mean to you? Is he not simply another slave in the millions that there are all across Tevinter? What makes this one special?" inquired Horus with an honest curiousity. Hawke looked up at him in confusion, for she'd never been asked about her motives for wanting to help the slave from a _magister._ Horus smiled at her expression, knowing that he's got her cornered. A small silence erupted between them, while Hawke searched for a way to communicate to him her reasons for wanting to help Leto.

"Very well then," said Horus suddenly," I shall get these vines off of you." Hawke's eyes lit up with hope.

"On on condition, however," he said smoothly, and Hawke couldn't help scoffing to herself. There always just _has_ to be a catch, doesn't there?

The smile never left his face as Horus continued," You must do a favor for me in return one day, Kitten."

Hawke nodded her head rapidly, sparing no thought, eager to get the strangling vines off of her. Horus stepped close to her, bending to meet her level and pulling up his sleeves, rubbing his hands together as a warm-up. Hawke pulled her face away cautiously as Horus kneeled closer, his hands conjuring a powerful dispel charm, the blue orb of light encasing Hawke's wrists and ankles, eating away at the binding prison. Hawke watched in shock as the vines cracked open, like clumps of dried sand being pulled apart from each other, and she quickly shook off the remnants. Horus watched as she briskly untied her other shoe and stood up with amusement. She turned, running as fast as she could towards the dungeons, not looking back at the bemused magister.

'_She's a spirited little thing,'_ thought Horus to himself_,' too bad she has no idea how quickly Danarius will break her.'_

* * *

><p>Hawke bounded down the stone steps, hoping and praying to herself that Danarius hadn't touched Leto yet, though the knowledge that he likely already did nipped at her mind. Her vision became more and more clouded by the darkness of the dungeons, with the only light being the small torches that were aligned on either wall, illuminating small instances with open spaces, with chains and shackles strapped to the stone walls, just awaiting for some unfortunate victim to fall pray to Danarius' cruelty. Whips and daggers hung higher up, above the chains, along with the most shocking of all tools: an electrical collar. The sight of the magically-enhanced and possibly fatal collar throwing sparks around made Hawke shiver as she walked closer to the opposite edge of the narrow dungeons. Leto and Danarius were nowhere to be found here, and Hawke began to worry.<p>

_'Where did that bastard take him?'_ thought Hawke urgently as she increased her pace. Her feet made little sound against the stone floor, and the various pieces of glass lying on the stone floor threatened to puncture her bare feet, likely from broken wine bottles for when Danarius did his dirty deeds in a drunken rage. She increased her pace as she tried to sidestep around the glass pieces. That was when she heard someone groan in agony in the distance, and the sound of a whip being brought down on living flesh as it echoed in the misty, damp dungeon, piercing its shadowy silence.

Hawke turned the corner, and stopped dead in her tracks.

Leto lay flat on the floor, with his filthy hands grasping the stone cold floor as Danarius stood above him, bringing the whip down on him ruthlessly, reveling in his screams and whimpers as Leto tried to roll over, a little farther away from the reach of the whip. Danarius was so intoxicated in what he was doing that he didn't notice Hawke at first when she entered the scene. She grasped the wall, watching the scene in shock as the elf she knew to be strong and fearless lay before her, squirming, coughing, bleeding. There was a frightening amount of blood that framed his body, the sanguine liquid matching the color of the whip Danarius was hitting him with. Soon, Leto ceased to make noise as the whip collided with his flesh harshly, declaring him unconscious.

Danarius suddenly looked up, the psychotic look back in his eyes. His irises dilated a disturbing amount as he spotted the young mage clutching the wall fearfully. He paused his abusive behavior, taking a step towards Hawke as she shrunk away cautiously, fear and anger burning in her eyes.

"Kitten, I do wonder how you've managed to free yourself of the vines. No matter, the more the merrier I always say," said the Danarius with a half-smile as he pulled Hawke to him.

Hawke gasped, her mind reacting quickly as her fist pulled back and launched a massive punch to his nose. Hawke's punch caught him completely off-guard as Danarius stumbled back, clutching his nose and screaming as the searing pain shot to the broken bone. A blue light resonated off of him: a shield. Danarius had expected her to attack with magic. He flailed about, tripping over his own feet as he struggled to heal himself vainly.

Hawke took advantage of this sudden turn of events and ran towards the fallen Leto, mustering up her strength to perform a healing spell. Her mind clouded, unable to conjure the incantations in her mind, and once again she cursed her lack of voice, for it was so much easier to mumble the incantation than to conjure it in her mind. As Danarius continued to clutch at his nose and grunt and groan loudly in pain, Hawke forced herself to focus herself on the spell, but the screaming interrupted her thoughts. She looked at Danarius and then back at Leto, who was losing blood by the second.

_'Fuck, please don't let me be too late,'_ she thought rapidly as her shaky hands pressed themselves to Leto more urgently. Slowly, she recollected herself amidst the screaming of Danarius and the screaming in her head and slowly but surely pictured the incantation in her mind. Soothingly, the waves of warmth pooled into her being and Leto's, the injuries weaving themselves shut rght before her eyes. Danarisus during this time had a hold of himself as he seethed through his pain, swiping at Hawke's direction threateningly.

She backed away, her lost sense of concentration breaking the spell. Leto's wounds were partially closed but still seeped blood with the unfinished healings. Hawke gathered him in her arms and pulled him farther away from Danarius as she herself stood up and delivered a swift kick to Danarius' ribs. He doubled over, falling to his knees, clutching his chest and nose simultaneously. Hawke was amazed at herself, but decided that first of all, she needed to get out of here. She retreated to Leto as Danarius lay in a pained heap, a position very rare for him indeed.

"You wretched little piece of foreigner scum!" Danarius managed to spurt out, his words muffled by pain. He tossed and turned in pain, clearly having never learned the benefit of a healing spell. Hawke couldn't help but feel a small dose of superiority, for she had something that gave her that little, nearly insignificant (at least, to him) edge over Danarius.

She pulled Leto's arms up from behind herself and latched them around her neck, slumping slightly so that his head lay on hers comfortably. She tried to take a step and nearly fell from how heavy he was.

_'For a skinny elf, you weigh more than Varric,'_ thought Hawke to herself in a slightly amused way. She'd gotten so used to thinking what she wanted to say that she swore she almost began to hear her own voice in her head. Hawke hopped up slightly, lifting up as much of Leto as was possible, and used her hands to rapidly conjure a simple levitation spell, feeling his weight become feather-like as Hawke briskly hopped across the lying Danarius. Leto's head bobbed as she walked, his feet dragging along the floor. Hawke eyes quickly scanned for an exit, any exit, and her eyes dodged wall-to-wall, searching for a door, a hole in the wall, a trapdoor, _anything._ She wasn't going to get her wish.

Danarius stood up shakily, grabbing hold of the whip once more and slapping it against the floor. Hawke's head turned sharply as she backed away fearfully from Danarius. He looked at her with a scowl so fierce that Hawke almost began to tremble. He was hunched over slightly, and his nose was five times its usual size, completely red and swollen. He grinned at her animalistically.

"You have nowhere left to run, little Kitten."

Hawke backed up against the wall, with Leto on her back as her mind raced with ideas. She looked to her side as Danarius approached and spotted a small window, just big enough for her and Leto to fit through. She smirked at him in response.

_'Yes I do,'_ her face read.

Danarius's twisted smile faltered as Hawke cast a protective bubble around herself and Leto and threw a lightning bolt at the window, shattering the glass. Before Danarius could react, Hawke cast her strongest possible levitation spell, and shuddered as her spell struggled to accommodate the weight of lifting the two of them in the air. Danarius casted powerful lightning bolts at her, each one steadily eating away at her significantly weak shield.

Hawke felt her mana hit rock bottom, but also felt her feet lift off of the ground as she channeled the last of her energy to move the two of them to the window, where her levitation spell finally gave out and she pushed Leto out the window, hoping that he would land on soft grass. Danarius glared at Hawke, whose shield was still intact, as she gave him triumphant look. That was when he mustered up the strongest spell he possibly could, the fire burning in his hands as he launched a powerful hit towards Hawke. She gasped as the fireball collided with her, successfully breaking her shield completely and pushing her out the window with the impact. Burns instantly marked her arms and chest as the scalding pain hit her with unexpected strength, knocking the wind out of her, as well as her last bits of strength.

"Mark my words, Kitten, you are not free," his voice resounded in the darkness of the dungeons as Hawke's eyes greeted the light of the outdoors. She fell freely, feeling the wind caress her cheeks once again and the sun beaming on her face.

_'Freedom.'_

At least, for now.

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><p>Hope you enjoyed this chapter!<p>

I apologize for the slight delay, I'm currently in an area with limited access to Internet, but I shall still try to update at least every two weeks. Hopefully it will be more than that though (:

Please R&R! Reviews are delicious!

Oh and don't be afraid to offer criticism ;)

-R.M


	7. When Slaves Enslave

**SHACKLE BOUND**

Summary: Hawke tampers with Merrill's eluvian one day and is magically transported back to the past, much to her horror and confusion. What happens when she finds out she'd been transported to Danarius' mansion, where a certain elven slave is held? Slightly AU.

Rated: M for disturbing content and Danarius' creepiness.

Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort

Fenris x Hawke

Chapter 7 is here! :) A big thank you to everyone for your input and feedback!

This chapter is relatively short compared to the others, but it is very important.

To theifkingbakura1: Thank you so much for your reviews:) They make me feel warm and fuzzy inside :$ Hope I don't disappoint!

Enjoy!

"Words."

_'Thoughts, dreams, memories, emphasis.'_

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><p>She had been hiking for hours.<p>

The cool blades of tall grass brushed against Hawke's ankles soothingly as she trudged through the sea of green, carrying the still-unconscious Leto on her back and holding his calloused hands in hers to hold him in position. The sun glanced at her every now and then between clouds, and Hawke welcomed the warmth amidst the wind that began to steadily pick up. Her legs wobbled slightly, having walked non-stop for the past several hours, but she continued forth stubbornly, eager to get as far away from Danarius as possible. She didn't know where she was going, but she was protecting both herself and Leto so she wasn't complaining.

She had managed to escape Danarius' gardens fairly easily without him catching up, and had weaved her way successfully through the busy streets of Minrathous, masking herself amongst everyday townsfolk and looking like just another slave owner, albeit her carrying hers, which earned her a few odd looks. The streets became more and more desolate as she moved forth until eventually, she simply deviated from the path. The sight of Minrathous, especially the poorer districts, made Hawke grateful that she had grown up in brown, yet halfway civil Ferelden.

Hawke did not notice her own panting as the burden of Leto's weight on her back became more and more present as her levitation spell began to wear off. She looked around suddenly, becoming instantly aware of her surroundings as she hadn't taken them in before, being consumed in her own little world of thoughts as always.

She saw the outlines of houses and small buildings in the distance, shadowed by the trees that stood as a wall around it. Her bare feet were dirty and beared scratches and cuts up to her ankles from her running and walking. Slowly she began to feel the weight of her efforts settle in as she struggled to continue walking, turning slightly so that she would walk past the village. It was no option; Danarius had connections everywhere.  
>Hawke's eyes lowered as she used her last bit of strength to hold Leto atop her tired, aching back, until finally she collapsed onto the ground, Leto falling atop her with a thud. He groaned at the disturbance.<p>

_'It's no use,'_ thought Hawke defeatedly. No matter where she went, Danarius was sure to find her. He would not let her go, especially if she had 'stolen' his most prized possession. No doubt he had hired men to search all over Tevinter for her. Whether she tried to escape or stayed where she was, she would be caught either way. Hawke sighed exasperatedly. The only thing she could do for Leto now was to at least keep him away from Danarius for as long as she could and heal his wounds. She imagined that he didn't even know of the word 'freedom'.

Gently, Hawke lifted herself off the ground, taking care not to throw Leto off of her. She turned e herself around slowly, sitting on the grass and laying Leto on the ground, facing up. His eyelids fluttered at the contact of her hands. Hawke tried to ignore the urge to run her fingers through his hair as she placed her hands on his chest and closed her eyes, focusing her energy on the remaining wounds and whip marks that marred the elf's dark skin. Having no time before to heal the rest of his wounds, Hawke relaxed as the soothing energy began to spread throughout her being and finally, branch out into Leto's.

Suddenly, just as the waves of magic entered his being, a large hand shot up and grabbed Hawke's wrist in a vice-like grip. Hawke paled as her hands lifted off of Leto's chest in surprise. Leto's eyes shot open as he gasped for air, shaking and trembling violently. His eyes darted back and forth, taking in his surroundings rapidly until they fell upon Hawke. His eyes widened and he dropped her wrist in confusion. He clearly had no idea where he was and what transpired.

"Wh-What…" Leto uttered. His brows furrowed in confusion. He felt no pain. He felt no fear. He saw no Danarius. In fact, it appeared he was nowhere near Danarius, as he wordlessly stood up to survey his surroundings, ignoring Hawke for the moment.

Sparse clusters of trees dotted the land around them, and he spotted the small, uncomplicated buildings of one of the few villages in Tevinter in the distance. His eyes looked to Hawke sternly, demanding an answer.

"Where did you bring me, Hawke? Why?" he asked, the tone of his voice hardening at the second question. Hawke could only gaze back solemnly. She pointed to his chest, where the cuts inflicted by Danarius were completely healed. Leto frowned. She'd healed him...

Leto rubbed his face in the palms of his hands in exasperation. He was fed up with Hawke's heroic attempts to 'save' him, when he neither could nor wanted to be saved. She was trying to soften him with her pity when he needed to be toughened, to be able to endure the coming pain and suffering for the greater good of freeing his mother and sister. He was at his wits' end.

"Enough," Leto commanded in a quiet, commanding voice. Hawke stared up at him with her large blue eyes, peering into his deep greens with a hint of fear and confusion. He ignored the look and instead glared at her spitefully as he barked words at her that he would later regret.

"Why do you not understand? You can not continue attempting to save me! I am a slave, not a damned damsel awaiting her prince, and I have chosen my fate. Why do you attempt to deter me from it? Do you not understand my circumstance?" Leto spat at her, raising his voice with every syllable. Hawke moved away cautiously, her eyebrows knitting together worriedly, clearly not understanding a word of what he was saying. Before she was sent here, Fenris always spoke to her of his loath for Danarius and his constant pursuit of true freedom. Why was this Fenris upset at her for saving him then?

Leto scoffed and turned away. Deep inside, he hated himself for being like this, but how else could he express it? For he had no experience growing up as a child with communicating with others normally; other children either ignored him and Varania or threw chipped pieces of toys at the two of them. The only way they stopped is if he engaged them in a fight or he yelled at them. The latter was the only way he was able to communicate with this woman. He turned back to Hawke, who was sitting in an alert position, eyeing his every move with caution.

"Simply leave me be, Hawke, or treat me the way one of your kind would to one such as myself. Why does that seem such a challenge to one such as you?" Leto asked. Hawke simply stared at him, unable to say anything. Even if she were able, what could she possibly say to him?

"You are a mage! You gain nothing from helping me. You are supposed to taunt me, hit me, ridicule me, take advantage of me. You are a filthy, power-hungry creature; be it!" Leto cried finally, watching Hawke's eyes widen in shock and hurt.

A loud, ear-splitting crack of thunder sounded in the distance. The two had not noticed it, for the tension between them was louder than any noise for that moment. The clouds cloaked the sun in their grey embrace, shielding the land from its blazing rays. Leto's steely gaze combated that of Hawke's, whose eyes brimmed with tears, but she refused to cry. Not in front of him.

Cursing in Arcanum, Leto lowered his head, his raven black hair concealing his eyes from view. He hated how she instilled this unfamiliar underlying sense of guilt in him, especially after her appreciated, yet unneeded attempts to help him. He tried to reassure himself that this was what she deserved, for she was a mage, but a part of him knew that was not true. He couldn't tell her why he pushed away her attempts to help him; the subject was too private, and he knew this woman for little more than a few days, no matter how much has happened in the small time that he had known her.

"I… I am returning to Master Danarius," Leto said suddenly, amidst the silence. Keeping his head down, Leto lifted himself promptly off the ground and turned back to head to Minrathous. He had come to know these parts well from his many travels with Danarius, thus would have no trouble getting home. Leto's eyes hardened. He would _not_ abandon his mother and sister, despite his own subconscious thirst for freedom. He promised to free them both by participating in those lyrium experiments, and he would follow through with it. Yet he could not leave without Hawke…

He turned towards her, hoping that she had at least some sense and would follow him.

"Come. I am Danarius' bodyguard, thus yours as well. I cannot return without y-"

A frightening boom of thunder interrupted his speech, and Hawke nearly jumped from the sudden sound. Both heads turned upwards to the sky just as small droplets of rain cascaded down to crash noisily against the ground. Fenris' slave clothes stuck to his skin as the water pelted down on his flesh. He looked over to Hawke, who began to stand up. The rain was only becoming stronger and faster, and a howling wind began to pick up. Leto growled under his breath.

There was no way they would be able to walk in this weather.

Cursing once more under his breath, Leto turned around swiftly, eyes searching for any sign of shelter. Hawke looked at him curiously, with a hint of caution, watching him sniff the air and look around his surroundings, much like a wolf searching for its prey.

His moody behavior was beginning to both annoy and frighten her. She knew full well of what he was capable, and could crush her into a pulp if he so chose. What she didn't understand was _why. _She was saving him from his most hated enemy, and yet he had said he didn't want to be saved? The name that he used to call her kind suddenly came to mind.

_Filthy power-hungry creature._

So that was he truly thought of her.

_'None of this makes sense,'_ thought Hawke in her mind, and she groaned inwardly. How she wished she was back home, sipping tea made by her mother after a long day of decapitating corrupted templars and blood mages alike. Things were far simpler, in her opinion anyways. She made a mental note to herself to begin planning her escape after the rain. She was tired, tired of focusing on helping Leto when he clearly did not want to be helped. There was no real reason that she needed to help him, was there? It was, after all, as he said: he was a slave, and she was a mage.

At that thought, Hawke almost slapped herself, shocked at her own thoughts. She was beginning to think like Danarius.

_'Looks like he's rubbing off on me,'_ thought Hawke grudgingly, gazing at Leto, who had his eyes fixed on the village ahead. After a few moments, he spoke once more.

"Let us go. The village ahead should provide us satisfactory shelter for the moment," Leto said suddenly, grabbing her arm urgently and pulling her towards the village. Hawke complied, much to his surprise. The dirt beneath their feet grew sticky with rain and stuck to their feet unpleasantly, making Hawke squirm slightly. Another crack of thunder sounded from the sky, and Hawke covered her head with her arm in vain as the rain began to grow into a storm. The wind's sirens whispered in her ears through the accompanying sounds of thunder and pelting rain. As they moved forward, Hawke saw the growing figure of some sort of building amidst other buildings in her blurry vision. With every step, the same phrase rang in Hawke's mind stingingly.

_'Filthy power-hungry creature…'_

Hawke gritted her teeth bitterly at the insult. Was he really that close-minded that he automatically branded her as filthy and power-hungry? The nerve…

Then again, the Fenris she knew always had an underlying prejudice towards mages, so this must be where it all started, she reasoned with herself unsurely.

The rain continued to pelt down on the two figures, making it hard for Hawke to see amidst the drops that fell into her eyes. They walked further and further into the dark, until they were cloaked in the darkness, and the rain stopped pelting. Hawke looked around, rubbing her eyes with her free hand agitatedly, and realizing that they had walked inside some sort of open building.

"Wait here," said Leto curtly. Hawke squinted, struggling to see his slim figure amidst the dark, but she listened to him and stayed put.

The rain continued to pelt outside, with drops hitting the roof of the building noisily. She heard the hushed steps of Leto as he wandered away from her, and within moments, she heard a clicking sound followed by a glowing light appearing in her line of sight. Leto stood next to the source of light, his rough face illuminated by the lit lantern. He held the lantern by the handle and approached the soaked young women, a solemn expression on his face. That was when Hawke noticed their surroundings. They seemed to be in an empty stable of some sort, with a set of stalls lined up against one side of the wall, and nothing on the other. No horses occupied the stalls. Leto offered her the lantern.

"Take this. It may provide some level of warmth for you."

Hawke gingerly accepted the lantern and felt the warm embers immediately. The waves of warmth soothed her shivering body and she sighed slightly in contentment. She looked to Leto thankfully and offered him a small smile. He looked back at her plainly, unsure how to respond. He looked down after a moment, and sat down on the dry ground cautiously, gesturing for her to do the same. His master was not here at the moment, after all, to scold him for sitting without permission. Hawke bent down carefully, placing the lantern at the side between the two.

"I am unable to bring firewood, thus we must make do," said Leto, avoiding Hawke's gaze. Suddenly, he began to pull off his torn shirt, his starved arms pulling the wet fabric over his head. Hawke's eyes widened slightly. Leto shook the garment free of any stray raindrops before placing it flat on the ground.

"I suggest you do the same, lest you catch a cold," he said nonchalantly. Hawke took a once-over on herself and her dress, before giving him an incredulous look. Was he joking?

"I shall not look, if that would appease you," said Leto as he turned around, allowing her some measure of privacy. Hawke stared at his backside, wondering whether to follow through or refuse. What he said was true, however, and Hawke reluctantly began to unbutton the front of her dirt-stained white dress, slowly standing up. As she did so, she couldn't help but trace his broad shoulders casually with her eyes, inspecting every cut and bruise that painted his scarred flesh. She noted quietly how malnourished he truly was, noticing the way the back of his ribs jutted out against his flesh unflatteringly and the prominence of his spine bones. Hawke realized that she never actually saw him without any armor on, even Fenris.

With the last button undone, the dress pooled around her shoulders, and she slid the fabric down with the help of her fingers, stepping out of the white silk into the cold air. She shivered, with goose bumps appearing on her arms and legs, as her undergarments provided little shelter against the cool wind. Hawke mimicked Leto, shaking her dress free of any drops still clinging to the cloth before laying it out on the ground beside his. Afterwards, she simply sat down, bringing her knees up to her chest shyly.

She patted the ground audibly after a moment or two, signaling Leto to turn around. He did so cautiously, gazing at her casually, his eyes staying fixated on her face and her face only. He already knew everything there was to the female body, having bathed Hadriana multiple times before and having seen female slaves stripped down bare at slave auctions, not that he particularly looked in either of those instances. Nevertheless, he understood the need for privacy.

He noticed Hawke wrapping her arms around her chest, unsure if it was out of self-consciousness or because of the cold. Gingerly, he picked up the lantern and placed it closer to the shivering girl. As he pulled his arm back, he noticed a few, unhealed cuts that were still fresh. He squinted closer, and then realized that they must have been from today's trip to the marketplace. Leto shuddered at the memory.

He had barely managed to escape alive with Hadriana, as the bandits that attacked them had practically appeared from thin air. They were fast and quick, and he managed to blindly injure a few before they got away, realizing their competition. They left him dazed, and Hadriana screaming. He and the apprentice had barely gone halfway to the marketplace before they attacked, thus were forced to head, or, in Leto's case, stumble back to the mansion. To this moment he did not know who they were, and why they attacked them. They were far too skilled to be mere ambushers. Leto pondered if he should ask Danarius when he returned.

While Leto was reminiscing, Hawke crossed her legs for a more comfortable position. She gasped slightly when she felt a throbbing pain ache in her ankle. The slight sound snapped Leto out of his thoughts.

"Does it hurt?" Leto questioned, motioning to the limb cautiously. Hawke looked down at her ankle and made a pained expression, nodding slightly as she uncrossed her legs carefully and laid the injured ankle in front of Leto. He gently picked up her foot and supported it on one hand while untying the knot of the bandage with the other. He unwrapped the bandage silently, taking care to hold her ankle in place, and Hawke mused silently at his mellow mood. She wanted to know what it was that made him _tick_. So far, it was her vain attempts at protecting him from Danarius, which still confused her to no end.

As he finished unwrapping the bandage, Leto revealed the ankle. A long, blue bruise tainted her flesh, and Leto's eyes lowered as Hawke's blue orbs widened at the sight, guilty with the knowledge that he was responsible for this. It occurred to him just then that never did she deserve his rude, ungrateful behavior from before. Yet she persisted, and is still persisting, despite his words. She rescued him from a whole of pain, and healed him, and had fed him, and not once. As he watched her massage her bruised ankle with wide eyes, that was when he realize that in all this time, he had never thanked her, not even once, for her help. All he had done was yell and yell, because that was what he had grown up to do to get what he wanted.

Leto had never thanked anyone for anything in his life, for he had never received a gift, nor been helped in any way, thus he had no idea how to formulate what he wanted to say to Hawke. Leto took a breath and swallowed his pride for the first time.

"Hawke… " he began quietly. Hawke perked up at the sound of her voice, eyes questioning Leto. Since the loss of her voice, she had become increasingly expressive with her facial expressions, for there was little other she could do to communicate.

"I need to… I must tell you that I… I appreciate what you do to help me…" he managed to blurt out awkwardly, waiting for Hawke to react. She promptly blinked in response. She was certainly not expecting this.

Leto seemed to be having trouble with words. He mumbled something incoherent under his breath, and his eyebrows were knit together in deep thought. He knew better than to ask why she was so persistent in helping him, as he knew she would be unable to answer, although the question remained sitting in his mind.

"I… apologize for my… my behavior. I should not have said what I said before. It was undeserved," he finished lamely, looking up at Hawke expectantly. She stared at him in disbelief. Leto was quickly becoming uncomfortable with the situation and placed her ankle gently on the ground before shifting around, turning his back to Hawke and leaning against the wall.

"We should sleep. The rain is unlikely to end for quite some time, and our clothes must dry. We shall head back tomorrow morning," stated Leto, not turning back. Hawke stayed put for a while, looking at Leto. She pondered at his change of heart, wondering what happened to make him apologize all of a sudden.

Leto shivered against the cold, unable to sleep with the freezing wind biting at his exposed flesh as well as the feel of Hawke's eyes on him. He heard a shifting sound behind him as Hawke moved closer to him. He figured that she wanted to share body heat. The thought of closeness with a female made him shudder slightly. The sight of women alone was nothing, but intimacy…

All that came, however, was a comforting hand lain on Leto's shoulder. Hawke sat behind Leto, simply placing her hand on his shoulder, realizing the trouble he was having at communication. Leto shuddered at her cold fingers, but then relaxed visibly, taking comfort in her sympathy. It was not a lewd touch, it was not a threatening touch, both of which he was well accustomed to, but a simple, friendly gesture. Leto's shoulders dropped, releasing the tension that had been pent up for quite a while now.

"Thank you… Hawke," said Leto simply. Hawke smiled in response. Perhaps she should stick around after all. Maybe once they got back to the mansion, she could somehow convince Leto to help her get back to the present with him. Surely there were other eluvians in Tevinter they could use, if Danarius' was off limits. That is, if Danarius didn't kill her on the spot for defying him…

Her hand remained on his shoulder as Hawke soon fell into a deep sleep with her head against the wall. Leto stayed awake for a while longer, contemplating deeply about his contradicting feelings towards Hawke and listening as the rain continued to pelt against the rooftops, accompanied by the biting wind. He was freezing, he was afraid, he was confused, but he was content.

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><p>Well there you have it - chapter 7 ;)<p>

Things appear to be looking up for Leto and Hawke - or _do_ they?

Thank you for reading! R&Rs are greatly appreciated!


	8. Blood and Magic

**SHACKLE BOUND**

Hawke tampers with Merrill's eluvian one day and is magically transported to the past, much to her horror and confusion, and ends up in Danarius' mansion with a still-enslaved Fenris. What happens when she is forced into apprenticeship by Danarius? AU.

Rated: M for disturbing content.

Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort

Fenris x Hawke

Hello (: welcome back! I apologize for the delay; coming back to school has kept me a tad busy. I still, however, will keep up the pattern of updating at least once every two weeks, if not more. Hope you like!

theifkingbakura: Aww ahaha (: Thank you so much for your faithful reviews and support! Your comments are extremely inspiring!

Note: This chapter is split into two parts. The second will come sometime before next week hopefully.

Enjoy!

"Words."

'_Thoughts, dreams, memories, emphasis, etc.'_

* * *

><p><em>"<em>Fenris."

The tall elf turned around swiftly to his name being called, scowling slightly at the disturbance of peace in the atmosphere. Aveline approached him with her usual disgruntled expression_, _her armor clinking loudly as she marched over to him. The dimly lit candles of Fenris' mansion glowed gently, but failed to soothe the elf's growing tension as he stared up at the righteous Guard Captain from his seat at his table.

"I want to know exactly where they're going," Aveline stated, her eyes fixated on Fenris. He knew exactly who _'they'_ were, and instead of answering Aveline's demands, he simply turned away curtly. Aveline's eyes narrowed.

"Fenris, you have to tell me. I need to know exactly what they're doing. Merrill's leading them, for the Maker's sake! If they're going to a scholar to ask about the mirror, or eluvian or however it's called, I need to know if it involves blood magic," Aveline said, laying her fist down on the table, amplifying her words.

"It does not," Fenris stated simply. Aveline frowned.

"That's not good enough. I need to _be there_, Fenris. You know just as well as I do that even without Hawke, there's always bound to be trouble. Tell me now or I'll find out myself," Aveline warned firmly, staring him down. Fenris returned her fierce gaze with a dull one of his own, eyes hooded slightly, signifying his incompliance. After a few moments, Aveline huffed slightly and turned to leave, stomping loudly. At the exit of Fenris' room, however, she stopped slightly, turning her head slightly.

"You want her back, but this isn't the way to do it, Fenris. You and I both know that. Even if she's a friend, I'm not about to make exceptions for the law," Aveline murmured lowly before leaving the mansion. Fenris sat still at his table, flicking the wine glass in his fingers, contemplating about his situation. He knew full well that Aveline was right; this was no excuse for blood magic. Yet he did not want to tell Aveline because he knew the kind of person that she was: calculating and self-righteous, narrow-minded to the point where she believes only her way was the right way. She raised her eyebrow at even the slightest break in the order of things. He frowned to himself, mouth tightening into a firm line on his lips.

After a while, Fenris got up and grabbed his greatsword. Blood magic or not, he was going to be there to see what happened to the mirror and to his companions, and if anything, _he_ would stop them if blood magic was going to be involved. Not Aveline.

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><p>The fresh smell of crisp, wet grass and acrid mud filled Leto's nostrils as he gazed out into the dawn sky, his eyes downcast. His sleep-ridden mind buzzed dully with fleeting memories as he leaned against the wooden edge of the mouth of the stables that they had slept in the day before. He looked out to the ever-changing horizon, musing at the spectrum of colors splayed across the sky. A light wind brushed his skin, lightly soothing the inner fire that built inside of him as the minutes passed. The elf narrowed his eyes.<p>

He couldn't sleep any more.

A quiet shuffle behind him made him turn around swiftly. His eyes met with Hawke's sleeping form, and he let out a small, frustrated sigh. He envied her. She slept so soundly, so peacefully, as if the coming of the Maker himself would not be enough to waken her. Her eyes fluttered charmingly, like two leaves floating in a calm breeze, and Leto could not help but wonder about this oddball of a woman. She was so strange, so atrociously ignorant of the rules, and yet she was not afraid to show it. Her blatant disregard for power and order both disturbed and confused him, as all mages in Tevinter aspired to become only the best of the best. He could not help but feel pity for her, as he knew first-hand that in the Tevinter Imperium, there was only room for ambition, and nothing less than ambition for power. She wouldn't survive here.

He wondered thoughtfully what fantasy land this creature must have come from, for her to be so blissfully ignorant of the dangers in Tevinter.

_'No...'_ Leto corrected himself, _'she understands. She simply doesn't want to obey.'_

He had always had this underlying feeling, this nagging notion that she reminded him of someone, with her brash way of acting and her childlike behaviour. Leto closed his eyes in deep thought, feeling the blurry images and memories of the past skate before his shut eyes: flashes of his mother's long dark hair and beautiful green eyes flashed in his mind, a brilliant smile glittering on her face, with little Varania sitting on her lap as she took the few minutes of a break in her day after work to spend time with her children. He remembered her soothing voice, laced with motherly words of encouragement and wisdom. Her eyes would sparkle with optimism, no matter the circumstance; a quality that Leto sorely lacked.

_'You're beautiful, Leto,'_ his mother would always tell him, even when he was older and towering over her small frame. It was a phrase that stemmed from when he'd burst into their small shack one day as a child, weeping and lamenting about the human children on the playground who threw things at him because of his appearance. It was his first day living in a new area in Minrathous, and he remembered how horrid the conditions were. He had barely a meal a week at the time, and was little more than skin and bones, with his filthy clothes and hair sticking to what was left of him, wet with rain and mud. His large, bewildered green eyes would blink nervously as he held his mother's thin, graceful hand in one hand while holding Varania's tiny one in the other. The only thing that kept him going at the time were his mother's words.

_'You're a beautiful kid, Leto. Don't let any shem tell you any different,_' his mother would tell him time and time again, and he noted her deep resentment of humans, just like he was resentful of mages. He remembered her little hands combing through his black hair as she lulled him to sleep in the dark, lonely nights with the sound of her musical voice. Varania would be beside him on their little cot, already fast asleep. The melody had always stayed in his head long after he left to serve Danarius. He had always meant to ask her the song, but never had the chance.

Leto's memories traced to when he'd told her about the lyrium markings that he was competing for. She had been furious. She argued that he was going to get himself killed, that it wasn't worth it, that she would be able to provide for the two of them. She was always like that; always believing that everything was okay, and that she would always be able to support the three of them. There was no doubt of the glimmer of hope in her eyes, however, that even she was thirsty for freedom, just as he was. She argued and argued with him, tears cascading down her hollow cheeks when she realized that he wasn't going to change his mind. Finally, she slumped down on the chair in their little shack, head in hands as she sobbed quietly to herself. He felt guilt weigh down on his heart, but knew that this was for the best.

He remembered leaving the house in a hurry, taking with him only a few possessions and determination as he ran back through the rainy night back to Danarius' mansion, trying to get there before his allowed break time was up. He couldn't help but shiver at the look of despair and disbelief on his mother's face, haunting him at night and injecting the doubt in him that perhaps it was not the best idea. He tried to reassure himself that it was for the best, even if it meant he became a walking test subject.

He was worth no more. At least not in this world

* * *

><p>The first thing she saw was an empty spot.<p>

Hawke's eyes opened slightly, feeling dim light peek into her blue windows as she let out a little yawn. She quickly saw that the elf that was supposed to be beside her was absent, and her eyes widened considerably. She sat up against the wall, gritting her teeth as she felt the cold wind lash against her exposed skin. She looked a few feet down and spotted her dress, covered in grime and dirt from being dragged through the wet ground the day before. Not too far away, Leto was leaning against the exit of the stables. He appeared to be sleeping, with his eyes closed and a peaceful look etched into his harsh yet masculine features. She noted that he was already dressed and, not wishing to disturb him, Hawke crawled towards her clothing, hoping silently that her dress had fully dried.

Her entire body ached from slouching in one position the entire night and a grimace came over her face from the pain of her smarting limbs. Hawke grabbed her dress finally as she struggled to stand up to pull it over her head. Goosebumps lined her skin, trailing along her arms and up her legs. She looked up at Leto self-consciously, lips parted slightly as she looked at him, checking to see if his eyes were still closed. His shadowy form was like a silhouette, contrasting against the brightening dawn sky and Hawke felt herself become breathless. Slowly, she brought the dress over her head, feeling the silky fabric kiss and entice her skin, embracing the way it hugged her form comfortably, yet firmly. She brushed her short hair back with her fingers and felt her face for any dirt. The tips of her digits came in contact with several bumps across her skin and she frowned, reminding herself that she hadn't washed herself in days. She felt absolutely filthy in every definition of the word.

Her eyes lowered as she remembered that they were going to have to face Danarius soon as she hurriedly finished combing her hair. Hawke remembered Leto's biting words from yesterday, remembering how she tried to help him yet he threw it back in her face. Her fingers gripped her hair tightly as the venom-laced words repeated themselves in her mind. Even if she had forgiven him, his words will not be forgotten. Hawke never forgets.

Hawke wondered idly what would happen today. She knew that Danarius would not let her get away with this, and quite frankly, she wasn't afraid. She knew that he was far too sadistic to have her killed, and as long as she was alive, she still had a chance to get away. With Leto by her side, of course.

Leto's eyes cracked open, feeling the haze of his small nap wear away as a familiar feminine figure came into play in his sight. Her hands brushed her hair briskly, tugging at the stubborn locks with a determined look on her face. Her dress was covered in dirt, but she looked no less radiant than ever. Leto's hooded eyes looked at her curiously, tracing her absent-minded expression, wondering if she had noticed his awakened state. Her eyes suddenly met his, and her hands dropped down as her eyes widened considerably, clearly not expecting him to be awake. His usual stoic expression did not change as he stared her down, refusing to show any of the pent-up confusion and contradictory feelings he had for her. She looked so innocent, so pure, and yet she was so dirty.

_Stained with the blood of a mage_.

"Hawke." Leto said simply, greeting her. She looked at him attentively. He stood up straight, relieving his back from the pressure of leaning against it. He motioned towards the exit, feeling that no words were necessary. They both knew what they had to face. Strangely enough, Leto felt a glimmer of comfort amidst the repressed fear and anxiety he felt for when they returned. He knew Danarius - he knew that Danarius knew that Leto would return on his own, and thus wouldn't send any guards after him. After all, there was one thing that tied the slave to that mansion, one vital thing that Leto would not abandon. That much was certain - that and the pain that was sure to come, yet Leto wasn't afraid. Physical pain didn't compare to loss, and he will not lose his mother and sister to slavery.

He began to walk down the dirty path, hearing Hawke's hushed steps trail behind him. The sun's bright face began to peak up from the horizon, illuminating the land with all of its rays. The silence between them thickened with every step, and Hawke wondered to herself what Leto was thinking. She gazed at him from behind him, her eyes tracing every movement of his limbs, every step he made. It would be long before he would speak again.

* * *

><p>Danarius lounged in his lavish armchair, rolling the neck of his wine glass in between his fingers as he waited patiently. He glanced at the grand clock that hung above his fireplace, a sly smirk taking place on his face.<p>

_'Shan't be long now,'_ he thought to himself, the smirk intact. The dark figure sitting beside him raised his eyebrow questioningly.

''Might I ask, sir, why you seem so... pleased?" asked Horus, amusement sparkling up in his eyes. Danarius ignored his question, instead posing one of his own.

"Tell me, Horus, what happens to the kitten that strays from its mother?" asked Danarius, looking out of the window into the misty morning landscape. Horus could not help but chuckle at his question. He had come to know Danarius so well that these sorts of odd questions were expected of him.

"Why, it gets slaughtered of course, master Danarius."

"And if it returns?" Danarius inquired once more, locking eyes with his former apprentice. Horus smirked lightly before answering, knowing exactly what Danarius was alluding to.

"It needs to be collared, sir."

Danarius laughed heartily, praising Horus' answer before turning his eyes back on the clock.

_'Yes... collared...' _

His eyes narrowed maliciously, his smirk still playing on his ragged features.

_'Come on, little Fenris. Your master is waiting. Do hurry back...'_

* * *

><p>Thank you for reading! Please R&amp;R!<p> 


	9. A Beautiful Stain

**SHACKLE BOUND**

Hawke tampers with Merrill's eluvian one day and is magically transported to the past, much to her horror and confusion, and ends up in Danarius' mansion with a still-enslaved Fenris. What happens when she is forced into apprenticeship by Danarius? AU.

Rated: M for disturbing content.

Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort

Fenris x Hawke

Hey everyone :) Chapter 9 is up! Thanks to everyone who reviewed + favorited, you guys are amazing!

**This chapter is very disturbing, **so I must warn those faint of heart to skip over this part. A chapter summary will be posted in the following update for those who do skip.

Enjoy!

"Words."

'_Thoughts, dreams, memories, emphasis.'_

* * *

><p>Hawke shut her eyes tightly as she felt the side of her head collide roughly with the hard surface of the road. Tears sprang to her eyes as she managed a gasp, feeling her breath being crushed out of her body with the force of the impact. She heard a muffled groan from beside her, recognizing the sound as Leto's as her dazed mind attempted to process what had just happened. All she remembered was walking along the road with Leto until…<p>

"Quick, check their shit!"

A shuffling was heard behind them as strange, foreign hands roamed along her body, fumbling for any signs of coin or other valuables. Her heart quickened with panic as she realized that they were being ambushed. Hawke remembered faintly Anders' exaggerated stories about bandits and murderers in Tevinter. He said that since Tevinter's power was so predominantly mage-centered, non-mages were often outcasts and turned to banditry as a way of life. He'd also mentioned that Tevinter bandits were some of the most brutal in Thedas, adding that many a time, stealing people's belongings were not the only thing they would do, especially to young women. She shuddered visibly, hoping to herself silently that he was only exaggerating. She dared not move or open her eyes out of shock.

"Hey boss, look what we got here. A knife-eared one," a masculine voice piped up nearby, whom Hawke assumed was inspecting Leto. The sound of boots marching along the road was heard as the gang leader walked to where Leto knelt, and a low chuckle was heard.

"Oh? Such a strange sight for such a comely lass to be seen with such a filthy dog. Tell me, heathen, have you kissed your mistress' feet today?" the voice taunted him, and Hawke trembled from the sheer spite in his voice, as if the venom of his words dripped directly into an open cut of hers. Leto didn't answer him, boring holes into the eyes of the bandit master. The man holding Hawke down laughed jovially as another man continued to grope Hawke for any belongings, cursing under his breath in Arcanum as he realized that she had nothing on her. He brought his hand down across Hawke's backside, amplifying his disappointment. She couldn't cry out, only shutting her eyes all the tighter.

"Stupid little whore... aren't you rich or somethin'? Why's there no coin?"

Leto remained mum, refusing to answer the bandit leader. A slap was heard soon after, the sound echoing into the breadth of the forest, making Hawke flinch violently.

"It appears that not only you have no future, but no tongue as well," the leader taunted, watching Leto's face contort into an expression of pain with a hint of resilience. Still he said nothing.

"Shame, for we could have put it to good use," an unknown voice commented from nearby, resulting in a wave of hysterical laughter and chuckles from the entire group of thieves. Hawke's mind blanked in shock.

"Stand up, elf. We're going to make a real man out of you," the leader commanded as a violent sound was heard as Leto was grabbed by the collar of his rags and raised up to stand on his legs weakly. Shouts and taunts sounded in the air as the man that was previously searching Hawke got up and joined the rest of the group. The man that still held her down pulled her hair up so that Hawke could see her friend being 'made into a man'. She cried out as she felt the roots of her hair were ignited with pain as her face was forcibly raised to look at Leto's suffering. She could hear the excited woots of the bandits as they gathered around the leader and Leto himself, encasing the young elf in a ring of no escape. Hawke refused to open her eyes. This was not real. This could not be real. Maybe if she didn't open her eyes, this would all go away. It was all a dream; she was only dreaming. When it's over, she'll open her eyes and find herself back in those stables, awkwardly fidgeting with her dress as she tried not to stir Leto from his peaceful daydream.

Tears raced down her face regardless.

The gang began to cheer as Leto was pushed against the trunk of a tree, gasping as the sharp bark dug itself into his olive skin. He felt the pressure of what felt like ten tonnes of men keeping him against the wall, and gave no struggle against them. He knew that it was better to let them have their fun, that they had a higher chance of escaping if he complied. His shoulders shrugged, releasing the tension that built up as he compliantly closed his eyes, bracing himself for whatever was to come.

The piercing sound of steel sliding out of its sheath was heard as the leader circled the captured Leto, raising his long, gleaming sword to the elf's pointed ears, tracing the outlines of the sharp tips threateningly.

"What say you if we give you a nice set of ears, elf? If we removed that disgusting hulk of a nose you elves have?" the man said offeringly. Hawke felt the pain in her head go numb as sweat began to pour down her neck from fright. This was not real, she had to remind herself.

The men continued to whisper amongst themselves as the ones not holding Leto against the tree gathered around.

"Do you ever wonder why you elven filth are so worthless?" the man asked Leto, after realizing that the elf was not going to answer his previous question. Suddenly, the pressure was removed from Leto as the bandit leader pulled him around, facing the young elf with a mocking look.

"It's because you're complete and utter shit. Every day I see thousands of you fuckers crowding our marketplace, spreading like a disease. You're a joke, a complete disgrace to the world, and you know it. Why d'ya keep on livin'?" the man said before kicking Leto in the stomach with a powerful hit of his leg, emphasizing his words. Leto cried out in pain, unable to hold it in any longer as he doubled over in agony, falling to his knees.

"And why're you so ugly, too? It's a wonder you elves can even stand to look at each other!" a voice chirped up amidst the group of men watching, and they exploded in laughter. Hawke felt faint as the laughter replayed in her mind like a melody, entranced by the sound. It was as if they were laughing at a silly joke, a hearty memory or an embarrassing moment they had when they were children. The laugh was so pure, so full of life, so enthusiastic...

_'How could they laugh so much at that? Is this what's considered genuinely funny in Tevinter?'_

No, Hawke reassured herself, it's only a dream... it has to be.

Leto clutched at his stomach as the leader continued to taunt him. He felt the piercing pain of their words, but he also remembered his mothers'.

_'You're beautiful, Leto,'_

"Why so silent, elf? Say something, you filthy little shit!" the leader grabbed him up again and threw him back against the tree, facing him. Leto gasped for breath as he felt a cool drop of blood make its way down his forehead. He felt numbness in his lip and assumed it was cut up and bloodied as well. He stared straight into the eyes of the leader, who only stared down at him cruelly, a devil's smile playing on his lips.

"Hold him down while I make this puny little wretch into a real human being."

Strong arms held Leto's as they pinned him against the tree from the sides, leaving his frontal area exposed and at the mercy of the bandit leader's sharp edge. He smirked at the helpless elf lowly as he traced his sword along the sides of Leto's face, the tip of it grazed the top of Leto's ears. Slowly but surely, he made a shallow cut along the middle of Leto's ear, marking the place where he would cut off. Leto seethed, feeling the stinging cut. The men around him howled loudly, voicing their approval and encouraging the leader to finish his dirty work.

"Get the other one off too!"

"Break his nose off! We could make you a normal one, elven scum!"

The leader smiled at his men's shouts before throwing aside his sword and instead, drawing a dagger from the inside of his dirty leather vest. Hawke heard the cackles and laughs of the men as they came closer to watch the band leader make work of the elf's heritage. The man that still held her up slapped her lightly on the face before whispering in her ear, the alcohol on his breath reaching Hawke's nose.

"Hey, dolly, you wanna see your friend get made into'a real human being? Then you could _really_ be together," the man taunted, chuckling to himself, mocking her. Hawke tried to ignore his words. She recited to herself the words. This isn't real. People aren't really like this.

_'Remember, this is just a dream...'_

The man approached Leto, dagger shining in the sun as he did so. Leto squirmed, knowing what was to come. Still, he did nothing. He knew they had a bigger chance of escaping if he didn't struggle, even though his hands ached to put themselves around the leader's throat. He glanced back behind the ten men that surrounded them, looking for Hawke. He saw her being held up by the hair, eyes shut tightly, trying not to look at him. He felt a small pang of relief, that at least the men were not focused on her. The leader stepped towards him, the dagger pointing towards his mark, and Leto felt a small trickle of sweat fall down his forehead. He tried to think of his mother, tried to think of her freedom, anything at all to keep himself calm and to remind himself that there was always a light at the end of the tunnel. He reminded himself to keep his anger bottled up, for if he defied these men, he would surely end up dead. If he complied, at least he had a chance. They would have their fun, and then leave.

"How ironic, eh, knife-ears? Knife on knife?" the leader gave him a twisted smile. Leto bit his lip to keep from throttling him. He held the dagger at the beginning of his ear, flicking the tips teasingly, watching as the dagger punctured the skin lightly. Leto sucked in his breath, his ear throbbing painfully. The men around him zoomed in for a closer look as the leader pushed the knife in further, delighting in the carmine liquid that burst forth. Leto gasped out in shock. It felt as though the knife had been plunged into his very core, sinking its poisonous blade amidst his bloodstream.

Suddenly, it began to move. Leto started to panic. He lurched forward, trying to get away from the source of the pain. At that moment, the bandits piled on top of him, keeping him pinned to the tree as the leader continued his work. He held his ear down with one hand and carved his dagger with the other. Leto yowled out in pain, his hands scrambling to grab for a means of escape. The bandits' heavy weight kept him planted to the tree like a branch.

"Keep him on that tree!"

"Fuckin' animal, stay still goddamn it!"

"Shit, look at it! It's like a waterfall!"

The yells and whoops continued all around him. Leto struggled to see, his vision blurry. The leader made a curve with a dagger, resembling the slight arch of the top of a human ear. His fingers were red to the brim. Leto howled like a wolf, the agony searing through him like a gust of wind, choking him of his consciousness. The men around him continued to yell and shout encouragements and racial slurs.

Hawke heard Leto screaming and her face contorted into one of complete fear. She tried to keep telling herself that it still wasn't real. It was just the demons that plagued her at night, robbing her of her sense of bravery, of her fearlessness, of her determination. Soon, she'd wake up beside Leto in those stables. Better yet, this whole thing might have been a huge, long nightmare all along and she would wake up to the smell of her mother making sweetrolls and hot elfroot tea for their guests, just like she always did.

_'It's just a dream,_' Hawke reminded herself.

Leto continued to scream. The men made an 'ooooh' sound as the leader was close to finishing.

_'Just...'_

Leto gasped and choked, feeling tears spring to his eyes from the blinding throbbing in his ears.

"Aww look here guys! We got ourselves a baby!"

"Why're you crying, scum? We're doing ya'a favor!"

_'A...'_

"Let's just be done with it. It's gettin' pretty boring now"

The group agreed, assembling themselves around Leto once more. A pair of hands grabbed him by the collar before turning him around swiftly, facing the tree.

_'Dream...'_

Some more hands joined the first in supporting Leto by holding him up by his backside.

"Ready, elf? We're gonna give you a proper face!"

A circle of chuckles erupted as the hands pushed Leto towards the tree. His face smashed against the trunk violently, making him cry out. He felt his nose crushed by the impact of his hit against the tree from the combined strength of the men who pushed him. Leto clutched his nose desperately, slowly turning around to glare at the men. The men spared no time in commenting on the effect of the push.

"Damn... that thing's never gonna get fixed!"

"Hope we shrunk it down for ya, scum! Now at least you'll look like half a human!"

Roars of laughter sprung up at the last comment as the men slapped their knees. The man holding Hawke up by her hair chuckled lightly before piping up.

"Hey boss, whaddaya wanna do with this one?"

All of the men turned to look at Hawke who still kept her eyes shut, stubbornly. The leader approached the young woman, lifting her chin to take a closer look, smirking as he did so.

"I'm not really in the mood for her right now. You horn dogs can have 'er."

Hawke felt the grip on her release as the steps of a dozen men approaching her became audible. A wave of panic washed over her as she lay on the ground. The sound of appreciation and approval was in the air as the men walked towards her.

_'It's just a dream... they're not gonna touch you.'_

The pain in Leto's nose and ears slurred his mind, until everything became one big, smeared painting. He no longer recognized simple shapes or colors. He felt as though a Rage demon had grabbed him by the face and thrown him into a pit of flames. He stumbled forth, trying to recognize where he was and what he was doing in an agonized stupor. It took just one thing he saw that would make him instantly recognize what was happening. Through his blurry, spotty vision, Leto spotted Hawke laying down feet away. As he squinted closer, he saw the men that previously surrounding him had moved onto her. His heart jumped as he realized what they were about to do. Leto spurted out an incomprehensible sound, trying to yell out to her, trying to reach her. Why wasn't she reacting? Why wasn't she doing anything?

"C'mere, sweetheart..."

"We're gonna take real care of you..."

Leto felt throttled. He had to save her, but how could he? He stumbled about, trying to reach Hawke and get those... things off of her. He needed to protect her, he needed to look into her blue eyes again and recognize the familiar mischievous gleam, the very gleam that gave him that small sliver of hope that perhaps Tevinter still had hints of colors amidst the grey skies.

"Hawke..." he gasped out. The men crowded around Hawke, with one yanking her up by her head. He heard the satisfied yells and whoops of the men around her. He had to save her, he had to get to her, he had to protect her... but how could he? He reprimanded himself for his inability to call out to her, feeling the derealization settle into his mind as he flailed about, trying to focus her form in his blurry sight. Was he really so weak that he was blinded of his sense of reality by just pain in his nose and ear?

"Hawke..." he managed louder. Still, she did not hear him amongst the men who were cheering and pulling at Hawke's clothes. He needed to reach her, to get her to snap out of it, to at least defend herself.

Hawke felt foreign hands roam along her body and tried to ignore the unwelcomed feelings. She instead tried to imagine Fenris, Fenris looking at her with his intense, yet soft eyes. Fenris talking to her about his life, Fenris pouring his story out to her, Fenris in his rarest and most treasured moments, Fenris smiling...

She just had to endure just a little more... and those hands would go away.

"Hawke!"

Her eyes flew open.

None of this was a dream.

Cruel faces, cruel twisted faces greeted her. The sun glared down at her from the corner of her eyes, as well as thousands of miles of trees and fields all around her. She saw men laughing at her, stroking her sides, trying to lift up the bottom of her dress to her hips. She saw it all happen. It was really happening.

She screamed.

She screamed_ loud_.

The men saw her mouth open but did not hear anything.

"Cat got your tongue, honey?"

It all happened so fast. Suddenly, she swiped at the men's faces. They pulled back, making a noise of surprise. She turned around, seeing the band leader staring back at her in confusion. Without sparing time to think, she threw her hand into the air, calling from the deepest depths of the Fade. She felt her mind clear, as though a wave of water had drowned all the confusion and feelings of disbelief from her body. She felt power brewing in her hands, more power than she ever thought possible from her. All her anger, all the bottled-up hate she had in her heart for these monsters was spewing out into the palm of her hand. Hawke's hand shook, struggling to hold the power at bay before she launched it. The bandits had no time to react before Hawke thrust the leader into an entropic cloud.

"Shiitt!"

The leader howled as he felt as though his insides were caving in on him, the spell eating away at his life energy. He collapsed in a writhing heap, shaking pitifully as the cloud sucked away his entire being. The others stood there in a state of complete confusion before scrambling to get on their feet and exclaiming.

"Shit, she's a mage!"

"Damned psycho!"

The men backed away from the enraged Hawke as she turned her gaze on them threateningly. She saw as the entropic cloud that she had cast began to cloud the atmosphere, making its way towards the other bandits. They panicked, realizing that they were in trouble, and set off towards the thicket of the forest. Hawke narrowed her eyes, gasping for breath as she felt spent. She wasn't done with them... they were going to _pay_ for what they did...

The leader went limp, finally stopping his movements as he allowed death to take him whole. Hawke began brewing another spell in her hand, feeling the last of her rage bubble up into a fireball spell, focusing it on the disappearing bandits in the distance, all scrambling to get away from her, like ants scrambling to get away from a stomping human. Just as she was about to set it off, she heard a groan come the side of her surroundings. Her spell evaporated as she looked to the side, finding Leto laying down near the tree, lost in unconsciousness. She felt herself come down from her rage high as her expression changed from unforgiving anger to concern. She dropped to the ground onto her knees as she inched towards Leto.

The bandit leader behind her lay motionless as she paused to take in her surroundings. The wind was cold and numb, brushing past her with an eerie silence as an accompaniment in a morbid orchestra. The clouds caked around the sun, shielding its warm rays from her face. She felt her breath stop. Somehow it all came crashing down onto her, the realization of what had just happened fell upon Hawke like a large boulder, crushing her to pieces. Suddenly, she screamed, wishing someone could hear her and come answer her calls. No one came. Her silent voice fell upon dead air.

She shook violently, trying to process everything that had just occurred, the strings of her sanity unraveling at a quick pace. Why did she have her eyes shut? Why didn't she do a single damned thing? She knew that it was all real deep in her heart, even if she tried to deny it to herself. She was no stranger to atrocities and racial violence, yet she did nothing. She experienced violence every day back in Kirkwall, so why did she shut her eyes to what was happening? _**Why, why, why?**_

Hawke choked back a sob as she crawled towards Leto. The pain returned to her head as she swayed back and forth, drunk with agony, trying to reach Leto. Finally, as she reached the heap on the floor, she collapsed onto the grass, shaking silently. Leto lay next to her unconsciously, dark red liquid visible between the dark locks of his forest of hair. She held back tears as her trembling hand pressed against Leto's worked ear, trying to will the energy in her mind to flow to her hands. She cursed her lack of voice once again, for it was easier to say the incantation out loud than in her pain-ridden, buzzing mind.

_'Please... Fenris...'_

Leto stirred slightly in his sleep, frowning slightly. He coughed slightly, tiny specks of blood falling onto his chin as he struggled to grasp hold of consciousness' hand. He felt soft hands on his cut ear and ached to bring himself closer to the comforting source. He tried to recognize what has just transpired, but his brain just couldn't function right now because of the budding pain in his ear and his nose. It broke and cut off his concentration as he lay on the ground, afraid to open his eyes.

Hawke watched the young elf struggle to come to, and her spirits heightened. She felt a wave of hope in her heart as she, again, tried to heal him. Sparks of the healing spell rose out of her hands, signaling that she was out of mana. Hawke slumped as she watched Leto writhe in pain as his body finally began to recognize what had been done to him. He cried out, eyes shut tightly, trying to mask out the searing agony in his ear. His fingers shook as he raised them to his ear, feeling the roughly cut part, shaped unartistically to represent a human ear. He stiffened. He was a _human_.

He came to, finally, opening his eyes. He found himself looking straight into those familiar blue eyes. The pain dulled in his ear slightly.

"Hawke..." he managed weakly, his expression changing right before her eyes. He tried to shuffle away, moving slightly away from the woman. Her eyes softened. He was _so_ afraid of her, so screwed up by his mistrust of humans and mages. She wanted to make it alright, to chase away his demons. She reached for him again, her hand resting on his cheek comfortingly. He looked up at her as she closed her eyes, finally gathering sufficient energy in her mind as the healing glow reappeared in her hands. She relaxed, expelling the rotten tension in her shoulders as she finally calmed and collected herself. She was okay, she was strong...

As the pain in his nose began to disappear, Leto looked at the relaxed Hawke with resentment. He hated this. He hated appearing so weak in front of her, letting her see him in such private moments when he let go of his defenses. He wanted her to go away, to leave him as he was when he was serving Danarius. He was so much better off not feeling anything for anyone except hate, and he couldn't allow himself to feel whatever it was he felt for her. It was just so much easier not to feel at all.

A pause came in her spell as Hawke stopped healing him, seeing that his nose had stopped bleeding. It still looked swollen, but not as much as it had before. His ear had stopped bleeding as well, and the skin had been healed back, although it was very oddly shaped. Angled edges stuck out eccentrically, although it was concealed by his hair. As she finished healing him, Leto opened his mouth to scold her and reprimand her as he always did. Hawke beat him to it however, quickly silencing his laments with a swift sleep spell. She watched his jaw relax and his head lower, his eyes closing peacefully.

She paused for a while, staying still as she watched Leto drift off into a deep slumber. She knew that after this, he needed to sleep and wash away the trauma of what had just transpired, even if just for a few moments. She bit her lip, trying to collect herself. Hawke thought back to when she was denying to herself what was really happening, and beat herself up mentally for being so stupid. How could she be so weak? Why did she close her eyes to her surroundings? Why was she so unwilling to believe what was really happening?

_'You've just never experienced it first-hand...'_ a voice inside her head assured her.

But she did.

She saw it every day, back in Kirkwall. She saw mages being corralled into a cramped tower. She saw elves being mistreated and being forced to live in dingy, unsanitary conditions. She _knew_, so why didn't she believe it now?

She pondered the question over in her mind as Leto lay beside her in a peaceful rest. She looked at him softly, the resolve building up in her heart. He tried so hard to appear the stoic, indomitable Fenris she knew, and she knew it shamed him to show her his weaknesses. She did not know why, for she liked it when he showed her that he lived as well as walked and breathed. That he felt real emotions as well as anger and resentment.

She leaned back, basking in the cool wind as she tried to clear her mind. Leto's eyes were closed. But not Hawke's.

Hers were wide open.

* * *

><p>There ya go, guys (: I hope this chapter was long enough to make up for the last one!<p>

Like I have said before, if you skipped this chapter, there will be a summary of what happened here written in a more... tame way, in the following chapter. I would appreciate any comments you have on this chapter.

Also, I would like to note that this is **not** a horror story. That is not the purpose of this story. This is probably the last of any strong violence this story will see for the next 5 chapters or so.

Thank you for reading once again! R&R's would be amazing! I enjoy having your feedback on what you like/didn't like about this story :)


	10. Madness To The Method

Long time no see, strangers.

Enjoy!

"Words."

'_Thoughts, memories, dreams, etc.'_

* * *

><p>Leto thumbed the leftover scraps of food between his fingers, watching as the thin nutrients dissipated between his long appendages. The lack of nutrition was confirmed with the growl of his stomach. Like a church bell, his stomach growled at regular intervals, sick from not only malnutrition, but the sickening teasing of the knowledge that this was just enough to keep him from collapsing, just enough to keep him from fading away into oblivion, and that no matter how much he worked and waited, this is all he was going to get; this tiny speck of what it means to be completely nourished, to feel the fullness and satisfaction of being well-fed. Leto felt his cheeks, noting the hollow spots beginning to take place, almost feeling the black hole emerging from deep inside of him, sucking in his life power from the inside.<p>

He was waiting, but what for? The possibility of more scraps from his master? He was named after a dog, would it be so shameful that he should begin to act as one, too? The door was locked to prevent him from making any more dramatic flighty escapes, opened only when Danarius was in need of his assistance.

In these kinds of situations, one would look to their Maker for guidance. Yet there is no Maker amidst the streets of Minrathous as far as Leto could see. There is no Maker harboring any of the souls that resided here. There is no Maker in the magisters, who are too enraptured by their own power to even consider the possibility of a being above them, or in the slaves, too world-weary to believe in such ideals. They have seen enough to know that hope is but a false instrument, paving a taunting way of gold before them whilst they are trapped behind titanium bars. Yet, they were not without dreams. Even with the magisters sucking the last grains of hope out of the slaves in this world, at night they often dreamt of worlds where it was not so.

In reality, Leto's mind was more vast a canvas than any famous painting. He was a painter deprived of a paintbrush; a drawing stenciled in but lacking color. On the shell, Leto was a slave, a creature fated to go no further than his master's line of sight. Yet how ironic was it that it that in his mind Leto could fly up to rearrange the most intricate of constellations, to explore the deepest of crevices, and think of the most inventive notions? With that, Leto tried to imagine the landscapes of other slaves' minds, wondering if they harbored the same dreams that he did. What a better world we should have if the capacity of our physical measures matched the capacity of what we can do in our minds.

Leto leaned his head back against the stone wall, swallowing emptiness as he lay back. There was nothing to do; nothing but wait with a peculiar and slight eagerness for the one person who made him feel something other than despair. The one who Danarius had decided to throw in with him into this tiny cell after their attempted escape. Or rather, _her _attempted escape.

* * *

><p>"You certain we're walking in the right direction, Merrill?" Anders asked as he looked up from the soggy map in his hands, scratching his head. He strained to see in the darkness of the night sky. The eluvian was leaning onto him, encased in a metal funeral casket. It seemed to be the least conspicuous way of getting out of the city.<p>

"Why're you even looking at the damned thing, Blondie? I'm betting we've walked ourselves off of any map by now."

"Not far now," replied Merrill cheerily as the group continued walking through the dirt and wet ground, listening as the crickets chirped and cheered.

"Just how much more tromping through the mud are we supposed to do? These are Hawke's boots I'm walking in, y'know. Blame's not on me when we reel her sorry arse back here…" Isabela complained as she assessed the damage done to the worn leather boots.

"…if there IS an arse to reel back," she added, grumbling under her breath.

"Hey Broody, why'd you decide to come anyways? Merrill's house too bright for ya?" Varric inquired, smirking up at the towering elf. The ex-slave retaliated with a sarcastic eyebrow raise.

"An intruiging insult, especially for one whose niche is inside of a giant rock," said Fenris, watching as Varric chuckled.

"You got me there, Broody. Don't forget that I'm a surface dwarf, though, above all things."

Anders stopped in his tracks suddenly.

"Wait, before we go on any further…"

The rest of the group stopped to face him, confusion evident in their tired faces.

"Just in case, let me put a protective ward on all of us. I think we're safer off this way in case this "scholar" of yours tries anything funny, Merrill."

"You are able to do that? Impressive," said Fenris. Anders raised his eyebrows in surprise, clearly taken aback by the compliment.

"Well, it's a simple enough spell. I'm sure I'll be able to pull it off for the five of us-"

"I was referring to your apparent ability to think," Fenris stated. Anders shot him an unamused glare.

"You know what-"

"Boys, boys," Isabela interjected, rolling her eyes playfully, "if we're going to die, let's at least try to hold out until we actually reach this… scholar guy. Anders, don't leave the bloody mirror behind!"

"Oh, right," Anders perked up as he picked up the encased eluvian in his large arms, with Varric lifting the front. Together, the group marched forth, fatigue in their minds and determination in their hearts.

* * *

><p>The dungeon doors slammed open as a thud brought Leto back from his thoughts. He perked up as he caught the familiar sight of black hair whipping through the air. Hawke fell upon the dirty stone floor of the dungeon as Danarius stood at the entrance.<p>

"Such a good learning session today, Kitten," Danarius said smiling down at the girl," What an obedient little minx you've become. I do hope we work again in such close proximity."

He turned his head to Leto, who stared up at him with empty eyes, filled with resignation.

"Try not to exhaust the little one too much, Little Wolf. Kitten's had quite the day. I daresay I have her trained at the level you are on. Until tomorrow, then, my lovelies. Don't be naughty," laughed Danarius as he slammed the dungeon door.

'_Thrown to the wolves… again.'_

Hawke sat up, eyes wide, and looked at Leto. Then, with a goofy smile, she held up a peculiar white object, completely ignoring what had just transpired. Leto squinted to see what it was, then rolled his eyes in amusement. Every time she was thrown back in this cell with him after her lessons, she brought back a stolen good of some sort – a book, a broken flute, a rune – peculiar items lying around the mansion, so that every time, they would have something to talk about, or rather, he would. This time, she had brought chalk.

"And what would you have me do with it, Hawke?" he inquired, though fully knowing what she wanted. She gestured towards the walls with the chalk. Leto looked over the dirty stone walls, watching how they stretched out to reach the high ceiling of the tiny little cell. They did not have much space, but they had walls.

"If you insist," Leto said as he took a broken piece of chalk from Hawke's tiny fingers and began to draw upon the stone walls. At least this would pass the time and give him something to think of other than death.

He contemplated for a moment, pausing with his chalk midway through the air, about what it was he wanted to draw. He heard the sound of Hawke already scratching away at the wall behind him, and wondered what it was that he could draw.

Leto was, in reality, a fairly good artist. He could draw landscapes and skies and beautiful mountains with great accuracy and details. Yet, he wanted to draw something else. Something that he wanted… deeply. He closed his eyes, his chalk lingering on the stone wall.

Freedom… yet how does one draw freedom? What tangible entity could possibly embody the concept of freedom?

Leto thought for a moment. Wings… if he had only wings, he could fly up and out of here, and never have to look back. If he was a bird, he could spread his wings and kiss Danarius goodbye. Perhaps not the latter, but nevertheless, Leto wanted to be a bird.

A dark, ominous raven, or maybe an elegant eagle, or a-

Leto opened his eyes suddenly as he began to draw upon the stone. He made crisp lines, taking care to place deep attention to detail. Slowly, powerful, beautiful wings came to life on the once desolate stone wall, and Leto felt satisfaction lifting his spirits. He was good at something. He was more than good at something. As he drew, he wondered briefly how other slaves may have talents; how many could become healers, scholars, artists, writers, artisans, warriors, and other occupations.

'_How great we could become, were we not reduced to lesser beings,'_ mused Leto quietly.

How could people be devalued so much, despite their potential worth? How do you know that that elven slave who sold you fruit at the marketplace doesn't have a mind of gold? If given the right resources, couldn't slaves amount to as much, perhaps more, than magisters? They were slaves, but they were people. There were brilliant minds among them, as well as brilliant hearts. But they were caged from the inside, and brilliant minds are of no use when you are forced to kneel at your master's feet.

Suddenly, the sound of Hawke scratching away behind him stopped, and Leto paused his drawing for a moment to peer behind him. Hawke was staring at him – no, not at him, at his drawing. Leto's eyes travelled from her to the wall in from of her, and stared in amazement.

She had drawn a wolf. Rough a sketch as it were, it was a clear drawing of a wolf, its eyes ravenous and hungry, searching for prey. Leto's eyes strayed back to his own drawing.

A hawk.

Stately and proud, with its wings outstretched, preparing for takeoff. Its eyes gleamed like diamonds in the rough, its wings sweeping its surroundings as if concocting a tornado.

Leto's eyes met with Hawke, and she smiled at him sweetly. Sometimes, they really get each other.

* * *

><p>"Mother used to give me and my sister these to play with as children. She worked for some slave-owners who owned a quarry. There was always an abundance of these," said Leto, fingering the ancient pieces of chalk. Hawke nodded as she continued to scratch away, listening intently.<p>

Despite her inability to answer his chatter, Leto rarely felt alone. Every shrug of her shoulders, every tense of her muscles seemed like an answer. She had learned to speak with her face, in addition, and her eyes would light up whenever he spoke of his background. Leto couldn't help but smirk at the image. It was rather charming.

By now, she had drawn mountains and roads and castles on her side of the cell, with strange, peculiar objects that Leto couldn't quite make out yet. She seemed hard at work at finishing her oddball drawing. Leto leaned back and relaxed under his picture of a hawk, trying to ignore his grumbling stomach, and instead deciding to nourish himself with words.

"I learned to draw with these. By the time I was eight, I swear I covered the walls of every backstreet alley with pictures of critters and sunsets," Leto chuckled, rolling the chalk between his fingers fondly. Hawke shuddered slightly - a giggle, Leto presumed. He felt his inhibition chip away slightly with every ticking moment. Despite their situation, he found some solace in Hawke's company. They certainly did not agree much of the time... but he took comfort in the fact that he is not alone. She was just as much a slave as he was in here - but she was a slave under the guise of a magister's apprentice - there for Danarius' entertainment.

Leto was no fool, he saw the various lash marks and cuts along Hawke's arms and legs whenever her dirty white dress rode up. She simply bit her lip and healed herself with the remnants of mana she had left when she thought that Leto was sleeping, knowing how the presence of mana disgusted him. He lowered his eyes. She was so afraid of him... and rightfully so, with the way he yelled at her when she tried to free him. Yet she still persevered, trying to help him. For what reason, Leto did not know, but he was grateful beyond words. He would hesitate to admit it, but somewhere in him, he felt a budding trust for the young Hawke.

Perhaps there was some glimmer of hope residing in this stony soul of his. Hawke turned to him and smiled at him before continuing to draw her peculiar masterpiece. For the first time in a long while, Leto smiled back.

'Hawke, you are insane. I admire you for it.'

* * *

><p>Hope you liked (; R&amp;R please if you can to let me know what you think!<p> 


	11. The Lady's Playground

**SHACKLE BOUND**

Summary: Hawke accidentally travels to the past into the dangerous world of Tevinter, where she is captured by the abusive and ruthless magister Danarius. He torments her, taking away her voice, her smile, and her laugh. Thanks to a certain elven slave, however, there is one thing he did not take from her. Hope. AU Fenris x F!Hawke. Rated for abuse.

Rated: M

Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort

Fenris x Hawke

Wow, it's been over a year. I've probably lost y'all by now. Oh well, at least my writer's block has finally worn off!

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Steady now, kitten."<p>

A locking of eyes. A reluctant sigh. Then a sharp intake of breath.

Hawke's eyes squeezed shut as the first wave of pain hit her in that familiar, spiking feeling. She bit her lip as the magic ate away at her flesh, attempting to conjure up a protective shield around herself. A faint yellow orb surrounded her, absorbing the life-draining blood magic that Danarius had cast on her. She held her hands up in front of her, shielding her face as she centralized all of her magic to her palms. Raw power coursed through her veins at the speed of a hawk as exhaustion build up in her muscles.

Slowly, the pressure of Danarius' magic began to crack down on Hawke's shield, and she gasped as she felt the palms of his sorcery begin to drain her life energy. Hawke held on for as long as she could, and even managed to reinforce her shield. Only a moment more went by until Hawke finally broke under pressure. She opened her mouth as she released her shield, sending shards of magic flying every which way. Danarius let down his spell, watching as Hawke bent over, gasping violently. She heard faint footsteps as the magister walked up to her and stroked her shoulders with his cat-like fingertips.

"Hmm... Kitten, I quite like these results. You've surprised me!" chuckled Danarius as he ruffled Hawke's hair. She peered up at him weakly, her mouth agape as she gulped for air.

"Four minutes. Four minutes it took for me to break you down this time. I'm impressed," remarked Danarius with a smirk," it took Hadriana only two and a half minutes at most in the first session we practiced resisting blood magic. You've got quite a lot of fight in you."

That was when Hawke fell to the ground. She shook visibly, trying to regain her strength. Four hours of continuous, stressful magic takes its toll on the body. Especially when you have no lyrium. She felt her veins tingle, thirsting for that familiar, cool blue liquid.

"Oh, the things you shall do. You can become a powerful little magister yourself, you understand. You have the strength for it. It's all a matter of harnessing it correctly and maintaining discipline. That is where your problem lies, Kitten."

Hawke hung her head, not out of disappointment, but out of fatigue. She was hardly listening to his words, but moreso trying to keep awake with all of the energy that she had been drained of in these past few hours of strenuous sparring.

_'I need lyrium if I'm going to stay awake for much longer...'_ she thought to herself apprehensively. Mages _need_ processed lyrium in a drained state like this.

"Oh come now, don't be so sad, little one," Danarius said, kneeling to meet her level. He cupped her face in one hand in mock-affection as his steely eyes dug into hers. Hawke felt too exhausted to even push him away.

"You, are my apprentice. I am going to make you great. You shall not be great because you will be powerful," Danarius whispered before leaning to her ear," but because you will be mine."

With that, Danarius pulled away, smirking at her open jaw. Hawke's eyes lowered, too weak to fight against him. He was so menacing, so frightening to Hawke, that she was always on the verge of just submitting herself to him every time this happened, these 'lessons' that they had. And these lessons were rarely composed of just academic lessons, but also lessons of a crueler nature.

"Ah yes, you must be thirsty! That was a long few hours of work, and you deserve to be rewarded. A kitten that catches her mice should always be given a treat for the day," chirped the magister. He smiled at her before kissing the top of her head. Danarius retracted his form, standing up over Hawke as he walked over to a small cabinet located below the large drawing tablet on the wall in front of Hawke. He bent down, retrieving a small lyrium bottle tray, along with several appetizing bottles of lyrium. Hawke's eyes shone with longing as she almost lurched instinctively towards him, vying for the bottles. He saw her discomfort and his smile grew. Kneeling down before her, Danarius placed the tray on the floor.

"Drink up, my love!"

Hawke grabbed for the lyrium bottle, watching the swirls of blue reverberate inside the glass case. She peered into the depths of the liquid.

_Magic in its purest, most naked form. Lyrium._

Hawke chugged it all.

She gasped for air after she had finished downing the entire bottle of lyrium in one go. She caught her breath, looking up at Danarius as her heartbeat steadied. He grinned at her, watching her as she reached for a second bottle, not yet feeling sated after the first.

"Do you ever wonder why I took you in?" he asked as he continued watching her. No response. That's fine with him.

"It wasn't simply because you're such a fun little thing. You see, I have kind intentions behind my actions."

Hawke rolled her eyes at him mockingly as he chuckled knowingly at her reaction.

"Do you happen to know what happens to little Tevinter ladies out on the dangerous streets of Minrathous; especially vulnerable, mute little mages such as yourself?"

Hawke yanked the seal off the lyrium bottle, still ignoring Danarius. In a starving agony, she downed the lyrium bottle in three huge gulps.

"Depending on the sect of Minrathous, most ladies like yourself out on the streets are often at the disposal of the _many_ different slave gangs we have around here. A 'rape per half-day', as many of them would say. Hadriana was one of them, did you know that?"

Hawke finished downing the second bottle as she sat back, relaxed. She closed her eyes, feeling the hunger die down in her blood. Still, there was that pit of uneasiness in the back of her mind...

"But we can't have that happen to you. We cannot have a band of inbred dogs forcing themselves on the pretty _Miss Hawke_, now, can we?"

Hawke's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as her face shot up towards him, her hands gripping the fabric-covered floor in a crushing hold.

_'How the **hell** does he know that?'_ thought Hawke frantically.

How? Where did he learn her name?

...Why?

Danarius smiled at her shocked reaction. As if reading her thoughts, he placed a finger on her lips, shushing her.

"Don't fret, love. No one shall touch you. No but I, because you shall be my lady. You shall be Lady Hawke."

Hawke ignored his words, refusing to meet eye contact with him. She reached into the tray to grab another lyrium bottle to distract herself from him, already feeling dizzy from the last two that she drank.

"Sip, never gulp, kitten," he chided," a lady never gulps."

Right then, Hawke's legs gave out and she crashed to the floor, the burst of lyrium racing through her veins at breakneck speeds. She felt dizzy as her sight became fuzzy, nausea building at the back of her throat as she lunged forward. She felt a freezing sensation as the high blood lyrium content in her veins began to take its toll. Danarius watched her struggle until she collapsed, unmoving, onto the carpet.

"And a lady also keeps her mouth shut," smiled Danarius as his figure descended upon hers, "after all, I wouldn't want anyone to ruin this comely little face of yours."

"Except me."

* * *

><p>Leto exhaled as he finished buying the supplies that Danarius had sent him to get. The streets were bustling with slaves and masters so quickly that it was hard to tell one apart from the other. The stench of garbage and filthy animals rang in the air with its acrid smell. Leto was quite accustomed to the stench, only holding his breath occasionally as he made his way through the crowds carrying the baskets of food he had just purchased. Mingling his way through the crowds, he decided to plop down onto the side of the street to eat the extra loaf of bread he had bought for himself. He couldn't take it anymore. He had to eat something. Danarius was sending him on another one of his infamous 'hunger strikes', to test his willpower, and he could no longer stand it. Even he had breaking points. With that, Leto discreetly took out one of the smaller bread loaves, looked both ways to make sure Danarius didn't happen to appear nearby, and took a bite, relishing in the wave of relief that washed over him with food in his mouth. As he feasted, he watched the scene before him.<p>

The elven slave often scoffed at this place. This was the less 'glamorous' side of Minrathous, away from the public eye. Away from the manicured gardens. Away from the glistening, polished arcane towers that the city was so well known for. Away from normal life. Here, in this place, normal life meant stepping in shit at least once a day and getting spit on by magisters at least twice.

He then took an especially big bite out of his bread, savoring in the rush of instinctive satisfaction it brought. He closed his eyes, reveling in the taste. It's easy to forget, after having not eaten for several days, what a luxury a simple thing like eating could be.

As he finished his bread and stood up off the road, out of the corner of his vision he saw a peculiar figure stalking towards him. That was when a flash of wild red hair and two orbs of green caused him to drop his bread. Their eyes locked.

Forest green met forest green.

No... it couldn't be...

"Varania?" he could scarcely believe it! It was his sister! The young elven woman of about sixteen marched towards him.

"Shhh!"

She shook an index finger in front of her lips, signaling him to be silent. Leto frowned as she grabbed his arm and pulled him into a nearby secluded alleyway. Well, secluded in relative terms. There was an elderly elven slave smoking miserably from a pipe and a young girl feeding on bread crumbs with her puppy. Both strangers turned to the intruders as Varania turned around to face her brother.

"I'm not supposed to be here right now. Master Venerian thinks I'm sleeping right now. It was the only chance I had to get away," his sister explained, whispering. Leto cringed at the sound of her master's name. He was a disgusting lecherous son of a...

"I came to find you. We need to talk," she commanded, her voice carrying an element of danger to it. Leto frowned at her. He hadn't seen her in weeks, and this is how she greets him? What could possibly be the matter?

"Who is that girl?" was the first thing she asked. Leto stared at her blankly, inhaling sharply as he realized who she was referring to.

"Which girl? There are many girls I know of," Leto said with a hint of sarcasm. This was typical between them - smart talk. Varania rolled her eyes.

"Stop playing dumb with me, brother. That woman, Danarius' new apprentice. Who the hell is she?" Varania pressed, her nostrils flaring. The young elven male paused for a few moments at this point, deciding to choose his words wisely.

"She's a street rat, I believe. Ended up in the wrong mansion. Doesn't seem to be able to speak. Danarius took her in for his own personal amusement, from what I understand. She's not truly his apprentice - that would be preposterous," explained Leto calmly. He eyed his sister warily.

"How do you know of her? Why such concern, sister?" he asked softly, lifting a hand to place on her shoulder. Varania waved it away huffingly.

"I've _seen_ you with her. Outside. In the market. I've seen the way you looked at her," his sister accused angrily. Leto stared at her long and hard, wondering what she was talking about. Then, like a wave, it hit him.

He remembered that one time. It was the only time that Danarius had left Leto's side to look at some new maps of Arlathan Forest, and one of the few times he and Hawke were able to enjoy a moment of peace out in public together.

"See? You do remember. I saw that. I first saw you and I was going to run up to you and hug you, and then I saw you standing with... her! Leto, she's his apprentice! How do you know this isn't just all part of the test?" Varania ranted, teeth chattering anxiously. Leto saw that this was obviously putting a lot of stress on her.

_'It is clear why. I am the key to her freedom. She will stop at nothing to achieve that freedom, even if the slightest obstacle is in her way,'_ thought Leto in his observation. His eyebrows knit together in a pensive frown.

Varania has always been an ambitious girl. Enslaved elven mages always are.

Varania's eyes welled up with tears.

"I won't lose my brother, my big brother, to some half-witted harlot.

"I don't believe that she is what you say she is," Leto offered sincerely. Varania glared at him sharply.

"I don't care," she spat at him," I don't want her to get in the way. You promised, Leto..."

Ah, but he did.

"You promised. You promised to give us a better life. You promised to set us free," Varania pressed, droplets racing down her pale cheeks.

Varania turned away from him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Mother..." Leto's head shot up at the mention of his mother. Varania sighed.

"All she can talk about is you. She used to spend her nights saying your name in her sleep, telling you not to go. Only recently has she come to terms with you doing what you're doing. Don't throw all your work away because of some whore, brother. You've made your decision, to free mother and I from slavery. I have a feeling she's going to ruin you, I just know it! She's going to trick you or do something to you. She can't be trusted, Leto. Please..." she begged, taking his hand in hers," please just be careful."

Leto was stunned.

What could he say to her?

Before he even had time to react, Varania wordlessly left the alleyway, without so much as a second glance at him. Leto hung his head, eyeing the forgotten food supplies baskets just a few feet away from him. He'd better grab those before someone decided to get smart with him and try to take them.

As be began to make his way home through the winding pathways that led to the magister estates, all he could think about was Hawke. Again. It was astonishing how she never left his mind nowadays. He was always second-guessing her, always surprised by her, always eluded by her mystery. Yet, it was hard not to trust her. It was hard not to trust someone who'd risked punishment time after time after time for him.

But one thing remained...

_She's a mage._

Mages are known for their ambition. They are known for their cunning and manipulative ways. Leto grew up surrounded by their trickery. Even his own sister, a mage, is wiley and willing to use her own brother to gain her freedom. He wasn't stupid - he knew she was selfish. But she was his sister. He would do anything for her, mage or not, because she is his kin.

Hawke isn't Varania, though.

She wouldn't do that.

...Would she?

* * *

><p>A loud creak shook her from her slumber. Hawke's eyes cracked open as she sat up against the stone wall groggily, still feeling the ache she had been gifted with many hours ago. Clutching her liver, Hawke rubbed her eye to clear the sleep from her vision. She needn't see who had come in. She already knew, and felt herself plunge into a wave of relief. She turned around, a shiny smile sitting on her face as she greeted her friendly intruder.<p>

"Hello Hawke."

Hawke beamed at him happily, and he nodded towards her amicably. He bit his lip, wondering if he should tell her about Varania. He couldn't help, however, noticing that something was different about her.

Her necklace.

Six gemstones, all sapphire-blue in color and encased in a silver, swirling frame. It glittered brilliantly, even in the darkness of the cellar, and Leto couldn't help but stare at the way it hugged her neck softly, as though it belonged there all along.

"Hawke... what is... that?" Leto asked anxiously. Hawke hung her head to look at her necklace. She groaned inwardly. Danarius had... collared her a mere hour before, after he'd named her his 'lady'. He told her that alongside being his apprentice, she was also to be something of a consort to him. The only enjoyment she managed to receive from this whole ordeal was the look of pure, raw jealous on Hadriana when she heard the news. Maker help her so that she doesn't murder Hawke in her sleep tonight.

Leto took a closer look at what was around her neck. It was hard to see in this darkness, but he had caught a gleaming of some sort...

Wait.

He backed away.

No.

He knew exactly what it was.

That was what frightened him.

He had seen this before. He and Danarius had recovered it on one of their expeditions to the Anderfels long ago. They had found it in a lost cave while on their long journey. It was wrapped around the neck of a female bust, presumably the bust of an obscure deity. It appeared to have no cultural background, and the bust itself was relatively unremarkable. The only point of interest was the small piece of paper that had been attached to the necklace: _"For a true lady..."_

It apparently has unknown magical properties of some sort... but they never found out which...

Leto's blood boiled. So now she was his 'lady', was she?

"And what might you look so content about?" he snarled at her. Hawke's eyebrows rose.

"When did he give this to you?" he inquired pressingly. Inwardly he rolled his eyes at himself. Why does he never learn?

"What an idiotic question, he must have given it to you today, hasn't he..." Leto argued against himself frustratedly. He didn't know why this bothered him so much. Maybe because it just seemed to prove what Varania had been saying this whole time. Perhaps this confirmed his worst fears. Hawke was not to be trusted.

"So you're not going to hide it anymore, are you, _Lady_ Hawke? You've been with Danarius this whole time, now, haven't you?"

Hawke glared at him dangerously. How dare he accuse her of being so wretched? Did everything she work for go to nothing?! It's a wonder she even puts up with him!

She shook her head vehemently at him.

"Then if you aren't here to manipulate me, why are you still here? There is NOTHING for you here!" exclaimed Leto loudly. The young mage flinched from his booming voice.

"You do not understand!" he said as he paced angrily towards her. His hands carried tremors as he tried to keep a straight face. Hawke gathered her knees to herself, looking away from him.

"You're being taken as a slave, Hawke! For absolutely little reason!"

"Where are you even from, Hawke? How did you get into this wretched place? How did you become a so-called 'apprentice' to Danarius?"

Hawke stared blankly at him, words dead on her lips.

"Most importantly, why don't you leave? I'm just another slave, amongst millions. Millions of whom are more worthy than I am to work for Magister Danarius. I don't even deserve to kiss the ground he walks on," he said, turning away from her, taking a break to think of more questions that she couldn't possibly answer. He didn't know whether he was just furious or if he enjoyed taking out his anger on her. Leto sighed. He watched as Hawke got up off the floor, wobbling slightly as her weakened limbs shook with ill-use and exhaustion. She walked over to him, gazing up at him gently.

"Leave, and make things better for yourself. You needn't feel pity for me – I have chosen my fate of my own accord," said Leto solemnly as he hung his head, shadowing the eyes that hid behind his jet-black hair.

"No..." she mouthed to him. This was the best she could do. Leto's eyes shone as he looked at her lips moving. What he wouldn't give just to hear her voice... to hear what she sounded like. To hear her tell him stories of where she was from. To hear her tell him how she felt... about everything...

"So… then why don't you leave, Hawke? Why do you insist on staying here, at my side?"

Silence. No surprise there. Leto scoffed, resuming his pacing around the cell in a huffing manner. He finally sat down on the ground in front of Hawke in a meditative manner, exhaling deeply. Why was he so angry? Why did this bother him so much? He racked his brain for an answer in frustration, but found none. Leto growled loudly in exasperation as Hawke watched him through half-lidded eyes. She was so tired. So tired of this. Tired of thinking and asking herself why. Even if she knew why, there's no way she could tell him.

Why was she here? What was it that kept her here? Besides the fact that she has absolutely no knowledge of how to get back home, what prevented her from simply leaving the mansion? It's easy enough, and she's done it before, didn't she?

_'But not without him...'_

Then, she understood.

Hawke gazed at him pensively, with an expression he couldn't fathom. Then, she made her way over to him, gliding across the cellar in her white dress before kneeling in front of him.

Watching him, watching her.

She knew why she was doing this.

He would do the same for her, if it was she who was enslaved and it was he who travelled back in time. He would. That is why she must do the same for him.

...She didn't want to look at him. And so, Hawke closed her eyes.

Gone were his furious and pleading eyes. Gone was his menacing figure. Gone were the feelings of speechlessness that she felt whenever she looked at him, at who he used to be. She needed to answer him, but how? How do you tell someone's former self that you are trying to save them from their past fate?

Leto watched her as she struggled with herself. He watched her close her eyes to him and stay still for a few moments, before she opened them once more, looking up at him with a look that he has never seen from her before. Her eyes were soft and warm, her face muscles relaxed as a small, sad smile played on her lips. She reached out, softly touching his shoulders. Leto panicked as he tried to shrink away from her touch. He let out a small gasp as Hawke relented, placing one hand gently against his chest while one held his upper arm. She leaned forward, her blue eyes coming closer and closer to him, like two pools of water he was jumping into.

'_Please, stop running from me,' _Hawke begged him, her eyes pleading with him. She wanted him. She wanted all of him. All of his angry, tortured, malnourished self. He was _Fenris_. He was her_ friend_.

Hawke's eyes lowered as she looked up at Fenris. Her Fenris.

No. He was so much more than her friend. He meant so much more than the word 'friend' could possibly mean.

"Hawke… don't," warned Leto weakly, his voice trembling. Yet he didn't back away. Hawke's eyes flickered, words piled ton after ton on the tip of her tongue. Yet she couldn't say them. So many things she needed to tell him, so many things he had to know, so many things to ask him. What did he feel towards her? What was it that always bothered him? Who was this younger Fenris? Her face closed in on his, until their faces were mere inches centimeters apart.

Hawke's lips were parted as she surveyed Leto's. Rough and undiscovered, just as he was. She wanted to know who he was.

Besides, she really needed to shut him up for a second.

Slowly, she broke the distance between them, enveloping his lips into hers. Liquid excitement and fear rushed through Leto's veins as he stiffened momentarily, paralyzed by this poison. Hawke firmly held Leto's wrists as she sunk into the kiss, closing her eyes softly as the elf relaxed, not realizing that he'd been holding his breath. The mage lifted her hand to caress his cheek lovingly as Leto finally begins to respond. He nips at her lips shyly, and his inexperience is clear. Hawke didn't care. For a few moments, their conflict was cleared up. For a few goddamn moments they have peace.

"Hawke..." he murmured plaintively between kisses. Leto hesitantly placed his palm on the side of her waist as Hawke's hand brushed up alongside his neck to entangle itself in his raven locks. He would make these delightful little gasping noises in between each kiss. She wanted to hear more of it. Hawke brushed her lips against his, biting his bottom lip every once in a while.

He couldn't describe how she made him feel. He despised her. He absolutely despised her. But he was intrigued beyond words by her. Both for reasons he couldn't explain. Perhaps it was in the way she ground her body against his with that long-repressed desire that had pent up in both their bodies. Perhaps it was in the heat of her eyes. Perhaps it was just her. Lady Hawke. One of the most frustrating and wonderful women he has ever known.

That was when he drew her into his lap - a brave move, coming from him. Hawke didn't mind. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she intertwined her hands with his. Leto broke away from the kiss for exactly three seconds - one, to reach out behind her neck. Two, to unclasp that damn necklace. Three, to throw it away. Danarius' necklace clattered onto the stone floor, as forgotten as the anger they held towards each other only moments before.

There were two things that Hawke was beginning to have an addiction for. Lyrium, and Fenris.

* * *

><p>"Danarius! Master Danarius, ser!" a familiar voice caused Danarius to perk up from his reading. He retracted from his sofa, hearing Horus' normally silky voice changed into one of anxiety and breathlessness. His dishevelled form appeared in his bedroom, with his black hair out of its ponytail and his robes wrinkly.<p>

"Ser... I'm so sorry for intruding. I had to use the Eluvian to teleport to your home."

"What on earth is the matter, lad?" asked the elder magister, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

"There's been another murder," Horus said, out of breath. Danarius raised a brow at this. He almost laughed.

"Don't have too many of those around here, now, do we lad?" he answered sarcastically. Horus shook his head, which made Danarius' eyebrows press together apprehensively.

"It's not... that, master Danarius. It's the murders, from before. The ones I told you about, just a week ago. Another Tevinter magister has been killed. I came to warn you, you have to get out of here before it's too late!"

Here Danarius frowned.

"The murder... this time, it was right outside your doorstep, Danarius."

Faintly, in the distance, the two magisters heard a knocking on the entrance of the mansion, and Hadriana's hurried footsteps as she made her way to open it.

Danarius turned around just as his apprentice was opening the entrance.

There was no time to react.

Hadriana screamed as she opened the door.

* * *

><p>I apologize greatly for the long wait, but I am happy to say that my writer's block has ended, as has schooling. Therefore, you can expect a lot more updates from me in the coming months, especially for this story. 'Shackle Bound' is still nowhere near to being done (I am planning to write a total of twenty-three chapters for this story), but I'm extremely fond of writing it and of the feedback that you guys are giving me. Thank you for reading and I hope you review!<p> 


	12. No More Tears, Fenris

**SHACKLE BOUND**

**Chapter 12: "No More Tears, Fenris"**

Hey everybody!

I am SO sorry it took me a while to write this chapter! I had just recently moved to a different country temporarily, and all of the events have kept me from writing this new chapter! However, good news is that this chapter is more than twice the length of my usual. A gift for you guys waiting so patiently!

I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and this is the longest one I've written yet for this particular story, so it's packed with action! Hopefully this particular addition will answer some of your questions, as this is a huge step forward in our story.

I heavily appreciate all of your beautiful and thoughtful reviews, and to those of you who are still with this story, so a HUGE thank you to all of you guys! You rock!

**Just a reminder so I don't get any angry PMs: this chapter is one of those 'special' ones that earns this story its M rating. You have been warned!**

And now, without further ado, here is Chapter 12! Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Fenris watched as a lonesome three-legged beetle climbed up the length of the rotted log upon which he sat. The pitiful creature, despite its disabled form, struggled to crawl through the leaves and branches that blocked its way to sanctuary from the various predators that prowled in the night.<p>

It was a colorful one, with its half-torn wings bladed in gold and tipped in brilliant sapphire. Fenris tentatively lifted his fingers and pressed them in front of the helpless animal. The beetle froze at the sudden obstacle, and then climbed over his lanky fingers hesitantly as Fenris set it atop the log. With a weary look, he watched as the beetle made its way into a small nook inside the log, safe away from the demons of the world.

His campmates rested solemnly beside him, clearly more fortunate than he was tonight in trapping the elusive butterfly of sleep. Nowadays, it was nearly impossible for him to even find it, let alone catch it. His thoughts of Hawke kept him awake day and night, and even the attempts of comfort from Marethari and Isabela did nothing to soothe his unease. She was gone, and there was no guarantee of ever seeing her again.

Hawke, that annoying, playful, sarcastic little brat that always beat him at Wicked Grace, who always hid a card of cunning underneath her sleeve despite her demure appearance. Hawke, who, no matter what corruption she faced, still managed to retain a sense of childlike altruism to whomever she met. She was irritating often, childish even, but never without integrity.

And now, Fenris wasn't sure if he would ever again see her chiding him for his spiteful comments about mages or if he would get to scowl at her as she would stick out her tongue at him after beating his last card. He could still taste the overwhelming amounts of alcohol she made him drink after every lost round. She and Varric would explode into laughter, watching how the usually stoic and collected Fenris stumbled over his own lanky legs, cursing under his breath in Arcanum. He didn't think it was very funny. He remembered his own satisfied smirk when Varric, ever the king of story-telling and card games, beat nearly every hand Hawke dished out to the table. She would roll her eyes in exasperation before downing her pint. The biggest irony was, that Fenris was able to beat Varric, and Varric was able to beat Hawke, but Hawke was able to beat Fenris, every time.

By the time they finished, Fenris had downed nine pints and Hawke had downed six, while Varric chuckled, 'amateurs' under his breath before taking another sip. Then they would both hold onto each other unsteadily after both having multiple rounds of ale, making their way up to their separate rooms in the Hanged Man for the night, with Hawke's pleasant scent filling his nostrils. Fenris almost chuckled at the memory.

Somehow, he felt certain she would return to them. To him…

_'Yet, even if she does return, shall she ever be the same?'_ that nagging voice of doubt whispered from the recesses of his mind. Fenris sighed deeply.

He had heard the horror stories. He had never heard of a time-traveller going insane, but he _had_ heard the tales of mages going mad after out-of-body experiences and being trapped in the Fade for long periods of time. Could this be the same path that Hawke was taking? After all, she was lost in time, and time was a the very essence of a vast, endless black hole of events. What if she landed in the days of the Arlathan elves? They would have killed her on the spot simply for being human. Or taken her as a test subject for their ever-growing collection of torture instruments. Fenris exhaled uneasily. Best not to think of such things… better that he think of her instead.

He missed her, missed her visits to his decrepit mansion on her off-days, where she would join him and they would chat, often for hours on end. He wanted to hear her voice again, as it always has been nothing but a flurry of emotions for him to hear her; calming him, angering him, amusing him, sometimes even tempting him…

A flash of memories of her speaking to him fluttered across his mind as Fenris laid back against the log, closing his eyes and losing himself to the sound of her voice.

'Fenris, you're not the monster you think you are…" Hawke once told him.

"Fenris, I promise you, you are not alone. I will help you find and kill your former master," she promised with that tinge of resolution hanging in her voice.

"You cheated! I just saw you swap one of my cards for yours! You cheating scumbag!" she exclaimed during one of their games, laughing loudly.

"I like you, Fenris," he remembered her purring to him one night after they've both had a few glasses of wine, just a few weeks after they first met, " you intrigue me, and I want to make sure you are comfortable in my company. I know of your troubles with mages, and I hope you don't mind that I am one." Fenris remembered him trying his very best to look like he did mind, to contradict the heart pounding in his chest. He had been so sure she could hear it.

Fenris' eyes shot open as the distant mewling sound reached his ears. Through half-lidded eyes, his eyes scouted for the source of the disturbance. It was a high-pitched and pathetic sound, and it sounded almost like…

Fenris sighed deeply, and almost forced himself off the log to walk over and crouch down besides Merrill's bedroll. Coiled up between her blankets, Merrill sobbed.

"What's wrong?" Fenris asked hesitantly, with a blank stare. Merrill froze momentarily, then pulled down her blanket, revealing her tear-stained face and frightened, watery eyes.

"I'm sorry…" Merrill sniffled miserably," it was all me, it was all my fault."

"What was your fault?"

"I was the one who got Hawke trapped in that mirror. Please, I didn't know it was going to turn out this way! I only wanted so much for the eluvian to work!"

His eyes shot aflame, losing all control of his muscles as he lurched forward in a blind fury and grabbed Merrill violently by the shoulders. Gritting his teeth, he shook her back and forward in a rage, making her yelp.

"What. Did. You. Say?!" Fenris growled in a raspy voice, his teeth bared as though ready to bite her arm off. Tears streamed down her face as Merrill squeezed her eyes shut.

"I'm so sorry! Please, Fenris, listen!"

"Oh, I am listening. You will speak, and you will tell me everything that you did, every last detail!" Fenris roared at her, sinking his large fingers into her lithe shoulders. She squealed from the painful marks he left. He teeth chattered as she spoke sobbingly.

"After I… after I retrieved the arulin'holm with Hawke from Keeper Marethari, I knew that sometimes, the arulin'holm itself is not always enough. So… so I went to visit some elven apostate mages in Darktown… blood mages… and they told me that an incision on the top of the eluvian would drive away some of the taint without weakening the mirror's connection to the Fade, as the Arlathan elves used it as a mark of purification from demons. So… I did it… I carved it… and now I think that Hawke's trapped because of me!" Merrill babbled, wiping her tears clumsily with her hands.

"You consorted with blood mages? OTHER blood mages?! Other filthy, corrupted, mindless excuses for mages as you?" Fenris' fists began to shake. This pathetic excuse for a mage. It was her all along; her and her mistakes!

"Because of you, Hawke may never return! You fool! Do you have any idea what you have done?!"Fenris shouted at her.

By now the other party members were stirring in their sleep. Isabela poked out her head from inside her tent, an annoyed expression on her face. Varric yawned and got out of his bedroll to sit by the campfire, deciding to roast himself some leftover rabbit. He seemed to be the only one undisturbed by the sudden commotion.

"Well what do you know, you got over Hawke fast…tsk tsk tsk" Isabela commented, watching how Fenris hovered over Merrill's laying body. Fenris felt his anger surge as he sneered at Isabela's wide, sneaky grin.

"This is not-" he began, but Isabela interrupted.

"Varric, I think you owe me something," Isabela smirked, leaning out of her tent towards a sitting Varric expectantly.

"Alright, alright, Rivaini, you win this time…" Varric grumbled, disappointed, flicking a sovereign towards Isabela. She caught it and chuckled lightly, disappearing inside her tent. Fenris growled harshly. How dare they make light of this?! After he dealt with this one, he would make sure to put an end to their games as well…

"W-wait…" Merrill said with a note of confusion in her voice, breaking Fenris' attention away from their other two companions. Fenris glared at her, feeling the night breeze tickle his hair against his forehead. His ears felt cold as the wind scattered his hair in every which way.

Merrill's eyes suddenly widened as she stared at him, frightened. She paled and her jaw dropped open. But she was no longer looking at him with the same kind of fear. No, this was a fear of a different coat. In fact, she was no longer looking him in the eyes. Sense began to trickle back into his mind, mixed with confusion, as the grip on her shoulders lessened.

"Fenris… what-what's wrong with your ear?" Merrill whimpered as her hand rose to cover her face in shock.

Fenris frowned. Just another plot by the sniveling blood mage to distract him, he supposed. Yet he felt an unpleasant churning in his stomach as he then raised his hand tentatively to touch his ear, not anticipating that once he did, he would never be the same.

* * *

><p>Before she could realize what was happening, a huge explosion was heard, and she caught sight of a black blur racing across her eyes, knocking her backwards. She gasped, and then, waited for death to come. But the weight was gone as soon as it had come. Hawke opened her eyes, and the first thing she was was red. Blood droplets raced down her face as the dark figure in front of her slid down to the floor, an enormous sword poking out of their left shoulder. Their face was contorted in extreme pain before they fell forwards in a pool of their own blood.<p>

"Hawke! Get up! We're under attack!" Leto's voice woke her from her thoughts. Hawke scooted backwards, away from the creature, and scrambled to her feet. She ran towards the door of their little cell, finding it to be unlocked.

"Wait, it may be a trap." Leto held out his arm in front of Hawke. He paused for a moment, listening to any signs of life. Then, he let out a sign of exasperation.

"Can you cast a protective spell?" he asked warily. Hawke paused in shock before nodding slowly. Was he actually asking her to use magic? Fenris?

He turned away.

"Do it."

So she did. The golden, faint outlines of a shield surrounded them as they slowly opened the cellar door, running up the steps to the main floor. The scene before them when they arrived was unbelievable.

Danarius and Horus stood a few feet away from the front door, with Hadriana lying out-cold in Horus' arms. Leto and Hawke rushed over to the others, taking notice of the damage done to their home.

There was a huge, black crater that had completely blown out the front door. Whoever planned this naively believed that Danarius would be the one to open the door, and die in the explosion. What was more worrisome, however, was the noxious green odor filling the air. Hawke looked down at the floor, and gasped when a sea of green goo came into sight. It was a filthy, dark, and rancid, and slowly advancing towards them. Hawke stepped back fearfully. It was spreading and spreading but it wasn't losing any of its volume. How was that possible?

"Don't stand too close to it! It's poison!" Horus cried out. The green liquid seemed to spread further and further, rotting away the marble floor and turning it to gunk. Danarius marched up to Leto and grabbed him by the collar of his rags, making him grunt in surprise.

"Fenris, where have you been, stupid boy?!" Danarius yelled at Leto and swung at his face. A loud slap was heard as Leto doubled over from the stinging of his cheek. He opened one eye to look at Danarius, refusing weakness to write its poem on his face.

"I was protecting Lady Hawke from the intruder. I was unaware that we would be having a third-party arrival."

"Nine Hells, none of us were! I am the master here, not she! I am your first priority, foolish pet, I am the one you run to protect first and foremost! Is that clear?!" Danarius bellowed. Leto stood extremely still, staring Danarius in the eyes.

"Yes, ser."

"Now then, I want you to retrieve your armor and put it on – and quickly! – and join us in our quarters. We must leave now before the barrier I've created around the mansion's borders collapses and before this disgusting green shit devours the entire mansion. Do you understand?!" Danarius barked, making Hawke flinch. It seemed like the more she sees of him, the more monstrous he becomes.

"I understand," Leto nodded before rushing off. Hawke watched as he disappeared up the stairs, taking a turn to go find his armor. She watched how the elf had turned so quickly from loving to loyal in just a matter of seconds. Just moments before, she had been curled up in his arms, being loved by his lips. It's just as well, too. Duty comes first in a slave's life.

What happened next was a blur. Danarius spun on his heel and began to rush towards his quarters, up the grand staircase. Horus and Hawke followed suite quickly, with Hadriana hanging limply from Horus' arms. They bounded up the staircase, with Hawke's mind bubbling with questions. What on earth was going on? Where were they going?

Then it hit her. Of course! The mirror! Hawke's veins pulsed with excitement at the thought of the mirror. She was going to see it again, after all this time! She was unsure why, but somehow it made her feel a sense of security, as if somehow, home was close again. Maybe… just maybe…

They turned a corner and entered Danarius' quarters. Horus rushed up in front of Hawke and Danarius, reaching the eluvian first to take a good look. That was when she caught sight of it.

There it was.

The blasted mirror.

It was as beautiful as ever, standing gracefully against the wall. Hawke saw herself in its glossy, unblemished reflection, and could feel the dark energy emerging from its surface. She had seen it numerous times in passing during the course of her stay here, but could never enter the room to take a closer look at it, as Danarius was always close by.

"I need you to prepare the teleport, Horus. You are better at these things than I," Danarius admitted begrudgingly.

"What should I do with her?" Horus asked, with Hadriana still passed out in his arms.

"Give her here," Danarius said to Horus before being given Hadriana. The scorch marks on her face were black and grey, and her white robes were completely ruined. Still, for a burn victim, she looked remarkable.

"Will she live?" Horus inquired quietly.

"She will. She has learned well, and protected herself admirably in the split-second timeframe that she was given. I have healed her all that I can, and for now, it will do," Danarius said, brushing the gritty hair away from Hadriana's face. Horus nodded and breathed in deeply, reaching out to touch the surface of the mirror. Swirls of blue surrounded his intruding fingers. His eyes squeezed shut, with a frown fixated on his sharp features. A few moments later, Leto arrived, and as Hawke turned to face him, she could scarcely believe her eyes.

It was the same armor that he wore with her – that same, silver breastplate and black arm cuffs and steel, claw-like gauntlets. For a moment, Hawke's heart shone with nostalgia at the familiar sight of his slave regalia. He looked just like the Fenris she knew, only younger and raven-haired. She didn't notice until after a few moments that her heart was beating faster than usual, and only Horus' voice and the gust of a wind coming from the eluvian broke her gaze away from him.

"It's finished, hurry! Everyone, in, now!" Horus exclaimed. Leto nodded and walked into the mirror with an astonishing confidence, as if he's done this dozens of times. Soon after, Danarius entered as well, clutching Hadriana to his chest. Hawke stared after him as he was swallowed up by the mirror. Perhaps… maybe if she stepped inside, she would arrive home and away from this nightmare of a city?

_'Please… maybe I can go home,'_ Hawke wondered. There was a tiny glimmer of hope buried within the confines of her pessimism that maybe, just maybe, the Maker would have mercy on her and bring her back to Kirkwall. The eluvian shone a brilliant white as Danarius stepped inside, completely disappearing inside the blinding sunlight that emerged from the surface, and Horus turned to her and smiled reassuringly, taking her hand in his as she entered the eluvian.

* * *

><p>It felt as though Hawke was walking straight through the heart of the Fade for a few minutes. That familiar feeling of being half-alive that came with being in the Fade, and the murky, unintelligible voices of spirits that roamed its lands arose to Hawke's senses. It felt like she was walking through quicksand as it took all of the strength in her body to simply lift one foot over the other. She couldn't see a thing – her vision was blurred to the point where only outlines of figures stood in front of her. Then, as if she was exiting a pitch-black tunnel, an overwhelming bright light devoured her senses. She shielded her eyes away.<p>

And then, it was gone.

Bottles of paint and large, blank canvases replaced those anonymous figures that she had seen only moments before. The brown wooden walls of an unknown shop came into view. Hawke blinked a few times to adjust her eyes to the light, then felt a pang in her heart when her eyes fell upon Danarius and Horus. Her shoulders slumped as she leaned against the front desk defeatedly. Horus sealed the eluvian quickly in a flash of blue light.

She was not home. It had been too much to hope for.

"The mirror should be safe. I have given it some of my life force to seal its indestructibility," Horus assured Danarius, who nodded, satisfied.

Leto stood in front of them, standing as still as a tree, with his head held high, scouting out the front door of the shop for any signs of danger, where a sign with the writing "Magister Arts – Temporarily Closed" hung. Clearly one of Horus' establishments. Hawke sighed audibly. Leto was gone. The slave and bodyguard known only as Fenris has taken his place. He looked so much more like him now, but felt so much less. Somehow, with Leto, she never managed to get the full package.

They exited the fine arts shoppe, with Hawke barely registering what was going on. It was only after some walking did she tune into the conversation between Horus and Danarius and begin to notice her surroundings.

"The fools think it is I who have organized these murders? Preposterous! _Venhedis_! Idiots!" Danarius scoffed angrily. She winced at his raised voice. The people around them turned to look at him in surprise. No magister with a grain of self-worth would ever walk in the muck of the peasant town of Tevinter, much less a man of such high standing as magister Danarius.

"The Archon doesn't believe them, ser, not without evidence to their claim. Your years of loyalty to the Imperium contradicts every word they say against you. However, the number of corrupted officials speaking against you is astounding. The Black Divine was especially vocal to voice your supposed 'treason'. Nonetheless, he stands against violence until there has been a negotiation for trial," explained Horus as they turned the corner.

"And of course, the perfect way to negotiate is to obliterate my home and nearly murder my apprentice, correct?" Danarius spat back. Hadriana was still out-cold in his arms, her head tucked neatly against his chest. She almost looked angelic when her mouth was closed, Hawke mused.

"The Black Divine couldn't have organized this. He hasn't got the stomach to get his hands dirty like this. It must have been one of the rival magisters who are eager to see you fall, ser."

"Then I will have his head! The fool has already shown he wishes me dead, and of course has failed. Now I shall return the favor. Which of the magisters do you believe it was?" he asked Horus.

"It was a poison bomb, magister. I knew it from the color of the smoke. Poison bombs are a product bred only in Antiva, by only the finest and most thoroughly-trained herbalists. It must be an Antivan. Now, who do we know that despises you and is an Antivan magister?" Horus smirked at Danarius expectantly, watching the signature monstrous glint return to the magister's eyes.

"Magister Mauricio. Perfect," Danarius sneered maliciously, "he can have the pleasure of watching me rape his fat _vasska_ wife while choking on that very same poison bomb of his."

Hawke shuddered and looked at Leto for his reaction, but he just kept on walking in front of them, glaring at everyone in their path. The townsfolk stepped aside uneasily as they watched the great Danarius and his fearsome, loyal Fenris grace their presence. A few bowed their heads in respect, but Danarius didn't even notice them.

"They're on the hunt for us, and it will be difficult to disguise ourselves with our conspicuous attire," Danarius remarked, "However clumsily this was done, it did what it was meant to do: drive us out and disorganize us. We need somewhere to stay to figure out our next move."

"You cannot all stay together, ser. That is too suspicious. Please, I invite you to stay in my home. They know that I am your former student, but they are unaware that we remained good friends all these years. Please, let me help," Horus offered. Danarius grumbled under his breath.

"I appreciate the offer, lad, but I cannot simply dive into something and just leave my slave and two apprentices to the wolves." For a moment, Hawke swore she heard a note of concern in Danarius' voice. Must have been the left-over lyrium clouding her mind.

"It's another slave rebellion, ser. I am sure of it. But it's different this time around. These slaves are more organized, better trained, and sharply strategized. We will need to take a different course of action. There is absolutely no way we can avoid conflict if we are seen altogether in one area tonight," Horus insisted, "Come. Join me in my manor tonight and we can discuss this further."

"Very well. Fenris!" Danarius called. Fenris nodded obediently.

"Ser."

"We've discussed what to do in a situation like this. You know where to go," Danarius told him, smirking. Leto paused for a moment, face expressionless.

"Yes… ser. I understand."

"Good boy. I trust that you shall take care of my lovely two girls for tonight. Here, take this," he said, handing Leto a couple silvers, "use it to buy some shelter and food. Make sure my beautiful ladies are well-fed. I presume Hadriana shall awaken by morning. On the morrow, I shall come to you. We will discuss our next move," Danarius instructed.

"It will be as you say, my lord."

"And you, Kitten, behave," Danarius pointed to Hawke, who sneered at him.

_'Like Hell I will, old man.'_

At least she still had her spirit.

* * *

><p><p>

"Stay close, Hawke. Hold my arm," said Leto quietly, holding Hadriana closer to him so that she wouldn't accidentally latch onto any passer-bys in this ocean of pedestrians. Hawke obliged, surveying the scene before her quietly, as calmly as she could. Otherwise, she thought she might go crazy.

In front of them was what seemed to be a large ditch of dirt, with thousands of slaves all knitted together. Just a sea of their skin colors and the grey of their clothes meshed together in a unappetizing sort of dish that is vomit-inducing even to look at. Hawke heard dozens coughing, saw at least four crying out in pain from a fatal injury, one with gangrene on their arm, two mothers giving birth right out in the open, and a bloody brawl between two slaves over a loaf of bread. All she saw in the span of a few seconds.

It didn't take long for Hawke to figure out what kinds of slaves these were.

The unwanted ones. The lowest of low scum. The ones who were so unwanted, not even the poorest of men would take them, and most of them were children, the elderly, the sick, the dying, or pregnant. They would do a half-day's work just for a bowl of soup, or perhaps pocket change, or even a chance to sleep in a haystack for the night. That was the way of the Tevinter Imperium: life was not a right, life was a force to earn and bargain with, and ironically, the reward was always more misery.

A couple of them were fortunate enough to own mules, still lacking coin for horses, while others had to carry what few belongings they had on their backs, whilst praying that thieves and pickpockets would bypass them. Although, for any sensible thief, this was no place to go hunting for valuables.

Once deeply entrenched in this tornado of slaves, Leto placed Hadriana gently upon the ground, with her head resting against a dead log, and began to gather firewood.

He worked incredibly fast, gathering large sticks for the outside of the fire, then small twigs for the inside. Hawke watched incredulously as, in the span of mere moments, he had created a crackling fire that fed warmth into Hawke's chilled bones. He got up suddenly, planting his eyes on her.

"Hawke, I will need you to wait here. I must go and buy something for us to sleep in. Wait here with Hadriana, I will be but a half-hour," Leto instructed. Hawke only nodded her head dumbly, too tired to do anything. She was so desensitized to everything that it seemed only mere minutes until he returned. The flames flickered, giving her a sanctuary of warmth against the growing chill of Tevinter. A couple of other slaves crouched close to their fire, hoping to gain some warmth for themselves, as they were too young to know how to make their own or too old or too sick. Leto came into her sight once more, carrying two large bundles of fabric.

"Tonight, we sleep with the slaves," Leto whispered under his breath before beginning the task of putting up the tents.

The sky was already beginning to turn orange by the time Leto had finished putting up them up. Danarius had not come as he'd promised, and for that, Hawke was grateful. She knew that they would be hunting for him.

Leto had already carried Hadriana gently inside her tent and placed her to sleep in her bedroll, and was just coming out when a sudden noise made Hawke nearly jump to her feet.

"Mmph! Mmmmrrghh!" a voice of struggle echoed throughout the camp, throughout the voices of bustling slaves. All heads turned to one direction. In a small clearning, a woman was struggling against two men in blue robes. They pinned her down as one of them grabbed her hair and pulled her head back violently, making her howl in pain.

"Shut her mouth, it's pissing me off!" one of the offenders yelled as the other wrapped a dirty cloth around the woman's mouth as a gag. By now, the voices began to die down as children hid behind their mothers' legs. Hawke's jaw dropped open. She couldn't be witnessing this.

They tore off her skirt as one of the men positioned themselves in front of her crudely. Then, the real screams began. She begged them, her tears spilling out of her green eyes in pain, as terror was the only language she knew how to speak anymore.

Hawke couldn't stand to look at this anymore. She turned to Leto with a pained expression on her face, silently begging him what to do.

But Leto didn't even react.

"Hawke, there is nothing we can do for her. They are magisters. They take their pick of the goods, and they will kill you if you intervene. This is the world we live in," Leto told her in a dead voice, eyes gazing soullessly into hers. He then returned to gathering firewood, a conflicted expression etched on his face. Hawke could only stare at the horrendous scene before her, eyes threatening to fall out of her sockets. One of the magisters had pushed her onto a couple of barrels, while the other one held her arms. The woman kicked and screamed, but the slaves around her only averted their eyes uncomfortably, and some of the children even cried, asking their parents what was going on, why was no one helping the poor lady?

"Please… plea-mrrmmphh!" the woman yelled as she momentarily broke free of her gag. The sound of a whip slashing through skin was heard, and the entire refuge camp went silent. The woman herself went silent, and Hawke wondered momentarily if she was alive anymore. No one spoke a word, or moved, knowing that if they retaliated, then they all would be doomed against the wrath of the Archon.

"Hear this, slaves? Hear that beautiful sound of dying scum? You are the dirt beneath our feet. You are NOTHING. Here, you want to see how pretty she looks now, after we've fucked her bloody? Hold her up, Kartos!" one of the monsters yelled out. A wave of gasps and screams resounded within the camps the very moment that Hawke turned away from it all.

She couldn't take it anymore. Hawke stood up and walked past Leto, whose back had been turned stubbornly to the entire ordeal, over to her tent, throwing herself inside so that she could grab her bedroll and throw it around her ears to those things that she never asked to hear. The woman screaming replayed itself over and over again, like the screeching of a violin. She begged her body to let her sleep, but in order to sleep, one needs to stop shaking so much. She continued her efforts, without success.

She didn't emerge from her tent until about an hour later, and even then, her heart had hardly returned to its normal tune. Her eyes were wild and puffy and lost, like a sheep amidst a pack of wolves. By then, some of the outside noise and chatter had died down a bit, as slaves need to sleep too. As though blind, she stumbled through a couple branches to sit by the fire that Leto had built, eager to capture some warmth in the thin, revealing white robe that was all she had to wear, given generously to her by Danarius. She sat down a foot away from the blazing heat of the fire, where she spotted Leto sitting across from her, who was taking off a readily-roasted rabbit from atop the fire. He

"It is alright. Come. Join me," Leto invited, beckoning to Hawke. She gingerly scooted closer to him and accepted the rabbit leg he gave to her in a small pewter plate. Staring at it hungrily, she dived right in enthusiastically.

"Be careful, it is still scorching," he warned, taking a hesitant bite of his own portion. She took no heed and devoured it instantly, having not eaten all day, and having no idea how Leto could stand to eat so slowly, eating as rarely as he does. The young elf chuckled at her enthusiasm.

When they were finished their meals, they sat in silence for a while, enjoying each others' presence. For a few moments, all was forgotten.

"Would you like to hear a story?" he asked tenderly. Hawke lifted her head to look at him before nodding her head.

_'Yes. Yes, a story would be good. Anything to get my mind off of…'_her mind trailed off, her lip quivering as a familiar feminine scream pierced her thoughts. She needed to hear his voice lulling her to sleep, to distract her from this place.

"Let us see… what story have I not already told you? Ah, I think I know. Have I ever told you why I want to compete in the annual slave tournaments this year for lyrium markings?"

Hawke's tired eyes perked up suddenly. Immediately, she felt much more awake. She leaned in, listening attentively. Her was her chance to learn about Fenris' past, and she'd be damned if she misses it! Leto chuckled at her sudden change of temperament.

"There is a reason for why I do what I do. I have mentioned it before to you but I don't believe I have ever elaborated on it. So I suppose I shall tell you starting from the very beginning."

With that, Leto cleared his throat. Hawke sat beside him, watching as the orange reflections of the fire licked his face, and how the flames flickered in his eyes, making him look thrice as menacing as he already was.

"My mother… she used to be a whore. She had training in alchemy, and worked as our former master's herbalist, but that only earned us a tiny shack on the outskirts of our master's territory, much less food and water. So in order to make ends meet, my mother would work nights at a brothel. After all, all Tevinter needs is more whores, not alchemists," Leto spat. Hawke winced.

"We were entirely oblivious to what my mother did at night. I would play with my sister while mother went about her usual herbalism work during the day. She did her share of the normal work, as the other slaves belonging to our former master, but we had no idea of the work she did at night, work that made us wealthier than the average slave family."

"But my mother was special. She is a beautiful woman, and men prefer to see beautiful woman in their beds than in their workshops. She would sneak away every evening and return every morning to sleep and spend time with us for a few hours. Then return to her usual work for our former master. Those days were the peak of our lives, for my sister and I. We had no idea that she was working during the night, and had no idea of what a prostitute was. We had better lives than the other slave children, and were even able to afford toys on some occasions. We had food and some clothing, and would share sweets with the other slave children sometimes. All we did was play in our master's courtyard."

Leto paused for a moment, a flurry of emotions painted on his face. Hawke noticed the way he frowned was different than the way Fenris frowned; his frown was more of a concerned, studious inward arching of the eyebrows, whereas Fenris boasted a humorless scowl.

"A few months later, our master began to notice her nightly absences. He would come to our little shack every night, shouting profanities and disgusting things to my mother. At first, it was only words, and then it transgressed into beatings. She wouldn't stand for them at first, and fought back. We hid behind tables and chairs, hoping he wouldn't see us. He threatened to take away her job, to take away her home, to rape her, if she wouldn't willingly bed him. She said that she refused to sleep with a man who killed his own slaves by the dozens for sport, and he would try to force himself on her. I would hold my hands over my sisters' ears, but I can still remember her screams of pain, clear as day."

"She took me onto her lap one day after a beating, while I was crying. I was a very young boy, and I did not understand what was happening to my mother. I did not know what to do, but cry. So she took me into her arms and gave me a stern look. She told me, "No more tears, Leto.""

"I didn't listen the first time, so she slapped me in anger. I looked back at her, shocked, my cheek burning red, and watched tears fall down her face. She had cried many times, but always attempted to hide it from us so as not to damage our spirits. It was the first time that my mother cried so freely in front of me… and then, she begged me to be strong, to be the man my father was, and to protect them. The way she looked at me… it was as though she was pleading the Maker himself to give me strength. She… she cried, screaming at me to be a man. So… I was. That day was the last time I have ever cried."

"The way she said it is still carved into my memory, and I still remember the quiver in her voice as she said it. "No more tears Leto". So I replaced my tears with my determination to protect my family, on all costs, from anyone who threatened them. That is why, the next time our former master entered our little shack and began to force himself on my mother, I rose out of hiding."

Hawke's mouth hung open, her eyes fixated on Leto the entire time. She couldn't believe her ears.

"I simply could not stand for it any longer. Varania, my little sister, was screaming as I stood up from behind the large block of wood we used as a table, and walked up to the filthy man, barely standing at half his height."

"He laughed at my mother, asking her if this was one of her bastard sons. I screamed at him to leave her alone, and taunted him to come after me. He stopped laughing, and became enraged."

Leto swallowed, appearing to have trouble speaking.

"He… pulled a knife out of his side pocket, and advanced towards me. I was seven, hardly trained in the arts of battle, and so he had no trouble… sinking the knife into my side. There was blood, so much blood…"

Hawke shivered. The image of a young, helpless Fenris and all of the color draining from his face flashed before her eyes, followed by a never-ending pool of red.

"Then, as he was watching me die, with that sick satisfied smile, something inside of me… it broke. Everything stood still for a moment. Varania stopped screaming, and mother stopped breathing."

"I reached out and grabbed his ears with both hands, with the blood still pouring out of my side, and in a momentary feat of strength, I twisted his head backwards. The sounds coming from the lurch in his neck…" he said, shuddering. A long pause ensued as the young woman beside him realized that she had been holding her breath.

"…Then, it was he who stopped breathing. I turned around to face the two of them, my sister and my mother, and with blood streaming out of my waist, I rose my bloodied fist in the air, and declared to them that from this day forth, I will never again watch them suffer. That when I grow old enough, I would do whatever it takes to free them, even if it meant sacrificing myself. That I have had enough of them terrorizing our family, and that I would cut through every bastard and kill the Black Divine himself, if it meant keeping them safe," Leto finished, voice trembling slightly at the last word. Hawke was speechless. A killer at seven years of age? Worse yet – armed with the responsibility of protecting his family, at such a young age?

"That is why I must do this. That is why I must compete in these competitions. For their freedom. For family. No matter what is happening now, I shall compete in the annual slave competitions. One hundred slaves, and only one will walk away with the boon. It must be me. No more tears," Leto said with a titanium resolution in his voice. Hawke was speechless. So this was the reason for everything. For the initial reluctance to become her friend, for his refusal to run away with her from Danarius. His family was the driving force behind everything he did…

"Who was the man you killed?" a quiet little voice piped up beside Hawke. She turned her head to see a couple of wide-eyed, curious little enslaved children watching Leto intently. He acknowledged them silently.

"Magister Kantaris, Magister Danarius' father."

A bead of sweat ran down Hawke's temple. It was as if a dark cloud that had been looming over her had evaporated, leaving nothing but clear blue sky.

"Woahhhh..." a wave of voices sounded within the small group of children.

"Magister Danarius? Oh yeah, you're Fenris, you're the one who killed Magister Danarius' rivals in the tournaments a few months ago!" a pre-adolescent, fair-featured human lad spoke up.

Hawke turned to Leto, a surprised look etched on her face.

"It's Leto, dummy! Fenris is what his master calls him, but that's not his real name! Plus, he's so much cooler than that. He was helping slaves survive on the streets before you were even born!" a mousy-haired elven boy piped up in response to the fair-haired youth.

"Why do you look so skinny? You used to be fatter when I saw you last year!" one of the youngest children asked innocently. It was the first time Hawke had ever seen a genuine, appreciate laugh from Leto, and not a mere chuckle.

"You're so stupid! It's because he works for his new master, duhh!"

"Yeah, Lancurias, don't you know they put slave bodyguards on hunger strikes? They're tests of strength!" the mousy-haired boy added, beating his puffed-up chest.

"Woah! Mr. Leto, you never told us you were that strong!"

"Yeah, and he's super nice too! One time, he…"

"He's very handsome, too…" a blushing red-haired little slave said shyly. All of a sudden, an orchestra of voices piped up as the children began gathering around Leto excitedly.

"Mister Leto, is that you?"

"Mr. Leto, you never visit us anymore!"

"My duties keep me occupied, I'm afraid," Leto said with a disappointed frown, "I do remember each and every one of you, however."

Hawke looked at the scene unfolding before her in shock.

_'He knows all of them…?'_

They bombarded him with questions and comments excitedly in a choir of voices, as Leto sat patiently and smiled mildly. He took turns with each of the children, even giving some hugs.

"Hey Leto! Remember the toy you fixed for me? I still have it, right here…!"

"Mr. Leto… why did you… "

"I haven't seen you in forever Leto! Mama says hello, and thank you for getting rid of those rats that one time!"

_'I see… even though he's a slave himself, he still goes out of his way to help others…'_she mused, feeling warmth spread inside her limbs. She always knew Fenris had a soft spot for slaves… but this…

"Hey, Leto…!"

"Mr. Leto…"

So that was his name.

Leto…

Hawke recalled Fenris telling her at one point that Fenris was probably not his real name, yet he had no idea what his real name was.. She made a mental note to tell him once she returned to Kirkwall.. Hawke rolled the name around her tongue silently. Leto… it was a nice name. She had never heard Danarius or Hadriana calling him that. It was always Fenris.

"Mister Leto, is this lady your wife?" a high-pitched voice squeaked, breaking Hawke's thought process. Her head turned abruptly to see a rosy-cheeked young human girl of about six peering up at her with wonder. Hawke's nostrils flared at the sudden shock of electricity that ran through her veins at the sight of her. The little blonde child exuded power from her body; a mage. Leto didn't seem to notice anything.

Leto chuckled lowly, patting the young girl on the head.

"Yes, Marina, this lady is my wife," Leto replied with a smirk as Hawke felt a tinge of red grace her cheeks. She shot Leto a surprised look. He didn't seem to notice.

"She's pretty! Hey miss, do you like flowers?"

Hawke nodded, smiling at the girl. She grinned as she handed Hawke her little bouquet of white daisies from a nearby patch. Hawke accepted the flowers graciously, beaming delightedly at the smell. She liked this one in particular. Marina. The little girl had blond hair and bright amber eyes, glowing even in the evening mist. She had a certain brightness in her eyes, the kind only found in the purest of living creatures, the kind that had yet to be tainted by the world's filth. It was at that point that Hawke wondered what was better, to experience that sort of innocence, before having it taken away from you, or to be aware of the evils of the world from the very start, but be ready from them?

"They are amusing to watch, are they not?" Leto's voice broke Hawke away from her thoughts and she looked back at him curiously. A small smile rested upon Leto's face – a small, sad smile that told of long goodbyes, loneliness, and loss.

A small pause ensued between them as they simply watched the children play. A couple of the older slaves looked on in disapproval, and a couple even shouted "Shut up!" at the playing children, but they were too loud to notice. They were humans and elves alike, mages and non-mages, playing together, oblivious to the amount of dirt on the rags they were wearing, and uncaring about their fate as slaves. They watched while the sun and moon began their daily game of hide-and-seek, as the final remnants of the blazing orb were sheltered by the vast, grimy horizon of Tevinter. It wasn't until dusk began to fall that the children became tired, and began to go join their families and guardians, or make their way to a safe location to rest for the night. Hawke saw one of them rush into the arms of their father, who planted a little kiss on the youth's cheek, while some of the children looked on with a yearning gaze. The weight in her heart doubled.

"I must give them something to hope for, Hawke," Leto said. Hawke nodded in agreement. She could understand why he would say something like that.

"At least for a little while longer, they should be allowed to believe that there is some hope for them, some hope of being able to live a happy life, with a husband or a wife or children, or perhaps their own home. Even if I must pretend that I myself have that happiness," Leto explained solemnly, watching the children leave with a silent fondness. He waved to them as they turned around to yell their goodbyes to him, and turned to look at her softly.

"I must give them that which I have had myself at some point."

Hawke suddenly felt very ashamed. She herself had an adequate, fulfilling childhood, living comfortably in Lothering with her doting parents and two siblings. It was in hiding, to be sure, and Hawke was never allowed to play with the other children for fear of accidentally revealing her magical abilities, but she never lacked for love or affection or even simple food and water.

Here she was, grumbling about her fate, yet she was fed. She was given clothing. She had a bed in which to sleep. She was mistreated, to be sure, but to this extent? Never.

And moreso…

Hawke's eyes turned to Leto again, feeling her legs turn to jelly.

Moreso, she had him. She had Leto right beside her, breathing and living and speaking. How many of these children were orphans? Wards? Completely alone? At least half of them. At least half of them were thrown to the wolves to survive on their own, pick-pocketing and stealing and slaving away at jobs meant for slaves twice their age and thrice their strength. She didn't miss the way some of the children looked on longingly as one of the little boys ran up to his mother to point at Leto excitedly as they both waved at him. They were the so-called scum of Tevinter, yet they were more honest and more sincere and more wonderful than any group of people she has ever seen. Even despite their everyday misery, they still found pleasures to enjoy in life.

Suddenly, Hawke got up. Without looking back, she marched back to her tent, stepping over a couple of sleeping slaves as she went. Her feet felt so much heavier with this weight hanging from her heart. Still, she maintained her composure until she scurried inside the flap of her tent, and only then did she allow herself to exhale. She did not want to look weak in front of all of them. At least, if she could be alone, then only she would be able to criticize herself.

A single tear pooled in Hawke's eyes. She felt so bad for all of them, everyone here. She felt so horrible for being so ignorant all this time, so wrapped up in her own problems. The screams of the woman from just a few hours before flashed in her mind violently as the tears began to run down her cheeks. She shook her head, trying to wish away the tears and all the evidence of her weakness. No, she can't cry anymore. Stop it, Hawke. Stop it.

That was when a strong, large hand cupped her jaw gently, but firmly. Hawke looked up to face Leto staring at her intensely. She hadn't heard him coming in behind her. His green orbs glared back into hers mercilessly.

"No more tears, Hawke," he said softly, but the command in his voice was unmistakable. His thumb deftly wiped away all traces of the sadness gathering in her eye. Before Hawke could even think to respond, Leto leaned in and captured her lips in his.

Hawke gasped as his velvet brushed her silk. The shock lasted but a moment, as Hawke closed her eyes and caressed his lips with hers lovingly. The butterflies in her stomach whizzed around excitedly, and her heart began to pound in her ears. Leto exhaled slowly, burying his fingers in her short raven hair as a fire-hot warmth began to pool in his lower abdomen. Hawke leaned further, her tongue nipping his lips playfully, until she lay down on top of him, capturing his hand in hers.

"Hawke…" he breathed against her lips, his free hand crushing her body to his tightly. His Hawke. His lady.

She inhaled sharply as she felt him gripping her white robes, silently cursing this barrier between their aching bodies. She broke away from his lips and shifted her weight slightly, so that her hips met his, joined together like the fingers to a hand; two parts of one whole. Leto's eyes hooded and glazed over in a way that Hawke has never seen from him before – he or Fenris. A beacon of fire ignited in the depths of those usually empty forest-green eyes of his, a fire that can only be found in one kind of man – one that has gone without a taste of happiness for too long. He propped himself up on his elbows, watching in awe as this woman opened the gates to pleasure like he's never experienced.

Straddling him, she ground her hips slowly against his lower stomach, lips parted erotically and eyes fixated on him, as if blind to the rest of the world. Maker, she loved the way he was looking at her, like she was some kind of goddess he was seeing descend from heaven – with the way he worshipped her with his gaze. She felt her chest fill with pride and a new-found sense of feminine control rushed through her veins. Leto moaned as quietly as he could, reveling in the way her inner thighs brushed dangerously close to his hardened manhood. His pants felt tight and constricted, and his desire begged to be released. He had no knowledge of what a man must do when a beautiful woman was pushing him over the edge like this, but somehow, his basic instinct whispered to him the answer. That was when he grabbed her hips and began to grind hips in response to hers, and good Gods, she felt all of him. Every last inch of his need for her was there - inviting her, tempting her. A slice of cake, and all she needed to do was reach out and take it.

_'What are we doing?'_she asked, to whom, she did not know. To Leto? To herself? To the Maker? Damn it all, she does not know. She doesn't care to know. She doesn't care about anything right now, only the feel of his member brushing against her white-hot center. And never once did he take his eyes off of hers. The boiling flames in his orbs doubled with every touch that his cock made against her shuddering body, and threatened to never stop devouring his senses until he had her.

She didn't realize until now just how much she belonged to him. How much she yearned to prove to him how she was his, completely and totally. Here was her chance, and she will take it, Andraste be damned.

_'No more tears, Hawke.'_

No. He's right. No more tears. No more self-pity. She was a woman, and she will damn well act like one, starting with this.

He suddenly reached forward and wrapped himself against Hawke, his large hands caressing her hips with virginal touches. As Hawke continued to grind herself against him with more and more urgency, Leto responded with twice the enthusiasm, kissing her neck. Every bit of contact his warm lips made with her soft skin left a trail of liquid-hot fire, a fire that she wished would never be extinguished. Hawke began to pant slowly, her chest heaving with delight. Leto brushed the sides of her breasts shyly, and she couldn't help but smile. He captured her lips in his once more, loving the way that she would bite his lower lip ever-so-slightly, just enough to evoke that lion's roar of desire inside of him all over again.

_'He's never done this before…'_Hawke mused with a fondness. It filled her up with a certain pride to be his first, but her subconscious wishes begged to also be his last, his only.

"Venn arkissum, Hawke…" he whispered to her in Arcanum. She had no clue what that meant, nor did she care. It only excited her more to hear the way his voice was clouded in desire. As he pulled away, she trapped his eyes in hers once more. A shock of electricity flashed through her every time he growled at her with that primal look on his face, with that animalistic need to be with her, as a man is with a woman.

"You are mine," Leto whispered in her ear. He didn't ask her or offer her. He told her she was his, and that was that. No questions asked. Just the way she liked it.

She lifted herself, pausing momentarily in her grinding, and gave him a small, mischievous smirk. Leto stared at her as she trailed her hands down his stomach and underneath his ragged undershirt. She felt every hard muscle that he earned from his toils in battle, every ripple in his skin. Her fingers travelled over every stitch on his torso as she admired his war scars. All this, for the ones he loved. She smiled at him softly. He deserved someone who would do something for him for a change…

She trailed her hand down his stomach and past his navel, sending volts of electricity up Leto's legs. He stopped breathing and watched in shock a she lowered her hand further.

"W-wait, Hawke."

But her desire was louder than his words. She could only hear the sound of how much she wanted him, needed him with her, inside of her, to be filled by him in every possible sense. Hawke's fingers slipped under the waistband of his bottoms. As Leto held his breath, she reached down and grasped his now very erect manhood. He inhaled sharply and leaned his head back, raising his hips towards her, and Hawke smirked, knowing that she had him.

"Hawke, get off!" he seethed suddenly, sitting upright. Alarmed, she slid off of him, scooting to the back of her tent in surprise. The scowl on Leto's face was soon replaced by a look of regret. His features softened as he advanced slowly towards her.

"H-Hawke.. I.. I cannot…" he began awkwardly. Hawke brought her knees to her chest, lips parted. Leto sighed.

"Hawke –please… I am sorry… we mustn't…" he whispered, brushing her hair away from her face in loving remorse. Hawke avoided his gaze, instead finding her bedroll to be very interesting at the moment. After all, that's clearly where she will be spending the rest of tonight. Alone.

A long pause ensued between them as Leto stared at Hawke with a cacophony of emotions. He bit his lip before cursing suddenly and rising to his feet.

"I have wanted to come into your tent to tell you something. Something that I have realized after tonight," he began. She perked up, watching him expectantly.

"Hawke, a slave I may be – an elven slave, at that – but I am still a man. A man in my position, with much to be desired, standing beside a woman like you, is a feat of endurance all on its own."

_'Jeez… thanks I guess…'_ Hawke thought dryly. Is that what he wanted to tell her? Maker… what a mess.

"To touch a magister's apprentice in the way I have touched you, and wish to touch you, is a crime among crimes. Should Danarius know, he will find a most suitable way to punish me. A punishment that would hurt me the most. A punishment that would make everything I have worked for up to today, entirely worthless," he explained, and the hint was more than enough. Hawke stared at him with realization dawning in her eyes. Maker, how could she have been so stupid…

_'Fen-… Leto… please… please forgive me,'_ Hawke wanted to beg. How could she have not realized it? Danarius was a heartless monster. Of course he would do something like…

"We cannot… continue this," Leto said, struggle in his voice. Hawke nodded, hanging her head. She understood. Of course she understood. There are things far more important than their desires, and to succumb to a loss of self-control could ruin both of their lives. She didn't think she could ever forgive herself if Leto's livelihood was ruined because of her.

She had expected this to happen at some point. It made sense, after all. What she didn't expect was what he said afterwards. He leaned forward on one knee, gently taking her tiny hand in his larger ones. Her snow melted against the tanned olive of his, fitting perfectly into his palm.

"I swore fealty to protect my master, to kill on command, and to companionship until the day he decides that he has no longer need of me. To this day, everything I have done was to secure the well-being of my family. And yet…"

_'Yet?'_ Hawke wondered.

"Yet… for you, I wish to do the same," Leto said, giving her a small smile.

"I shall protect you, Hawke. To you, as a friend, I swear this same oath. I shall protect you until my dying day. No man shall hurt you without tasting my steel, and I vow to keep you safe until you, too, decide you no longer have need of me."

"I swear to you; simply point to a man, and for you, I shall slay him. I will cut through armies and demons and follow you into the BlackCity itself, if it means that I am by your side." With that, Leto planted a chaste kiss on her forehead. The warmth of his lips travelled throughout her bare bones, filling her with bare traces of magic, and she swore that a faint blue glow began to gather around their forms.

An authentic vow, sealed by lyrium.

Hawke smiled softly at him as he pulled away.

"Thank you," she mouthed to him. She meant it. She truly did. Leto bowed to her, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

"It is time for me to return to my post. A long night awaits, and your safety and Hadriana's are my top priority tonight. It is best for you to get some sleep. We know not of the dangers that may face us on the morrow," Leto told her as he got up. Her hand slipped out of his, and the warmth that had bound them together was gone. With a sigh, he gave her one last, lingering look. One that spoke of bitter, hopeless longing, and nothing less.

"Good bye, Hawke," and with that, he was gone, leaving her alone with only her screaming mind to keep her company. She felt like a prisoner once more.

Somehow, her earlier question found an answer in and of itself. Leto was wrong to pretend for the sake of those little children. To see the world through rose-colored glasses isn't better than being tainted from the very start – it only makes the pain so much worse when you know that all of the happiness you've ever had was a lie.

* * *

><p>The whimpering kept her awake at night. The whimpering, and the smell. The wretched smell that kept climbing into her nostrils just as she was on the verge of a wink of sleep – that acrid, bitter scent of soggy earth and piss and a strange, unidentified filth. Probably coming from the slaves. Or the mules. One wouldn't be able to tell the difference between them anymore.<p>

Aside from a few poorly-kempt campfires, there was only the mercy of the Maker to protect these slaves against the biting cold night wind of Minrathous. Andraste's blood, even the worst of Kirkwall was far above the best of Tevinter.

Not even her bedroll and the furs that she used as blankets could keep her teeth from chattering during the night.

It was then that she began to think of the very thing she had been avoiding all along. The thing that she had pushed to the back of her mind since she arrived in Tevinter almost a month ago. The black widow that crawls into her head every so often, disguised as a question, filling her mind with a poison of anxiety.

_'What happens if I never escape this place?"_

She had lost her chance to escape via the eluvian. She couldn't go back now, and even if she could, she wouldn't leave without Fenris.

Worse yet…

"_What do I do about Fenris?"_

No… she reminded herself. His name was Leto. It will take some getting used to, she thought.

Leto, who was even more confusing than Fenris ever was. The two are so alike, yet so vastly different. Briefly, she wondered what it was that makes a person. Fenris and Leto – the same body, but are they of the same mind?

Is Leto Fenris as much as Fenris is Leto?

_'No,_' Hawke decided. Fenris is Leto, but Leto is not Fenris. Leto is tired and world-weary. He was cautious and shy. Yet he lacks the ruthlessness and calculating skin that Fenris bore on the outside. Although it was only a skin he hid behind, his anger has devoured his life. Leto's experiences have made him afraid, not angry, and it is only a matter of time before his sadness hardens into rage. Still, solid ice was nothing more than frozen water; a mere change of its former foundation, and Fenris was no different. Callous and cold as he may be, he was still Leto – simply in a frozen form.

_Fenris is Leto, but Leto isn't Fenris._

Hawke bit her lip nervously.

…If Leto isn't Fenris, then how can she love him as she loves Fenris?

If she does, then as it turns out, it is a totally different person that she was loving just a while back.

* * *

><p>The sun began to stream inside a crack in the flap of her tent when she heard her name being called.<p>

"Kitten…" a distant voice sounded from outside the tent. Hawke poked her head outside groggily as her sleep-filled eyes fell upon Danarius. Leto's words replayed in her head momentarily and Hawke bit her lip to keep from snarling at the man.

"Good morning, my love," he greeted her, and she noticed that the silky sarcasm that was absent from his voice the day before had returned.

"I need you to go find Fenris. I have a job for the two of you," Danarius instructed her. She stared at him expectantly. A job?

'They'll be looking for me, but they haven't the slightest idea who you are and what you look like. So, I need you to go back to our home through a secret entrance and find something for me. Something that I sorely need. My little Fenris can find the entrance you need to make your way back to the house, and you can use your magic to seek out what I need."

A chance for escape! Hawke's eyes shone with glee. If a mouse ever had a chance to escape from the claws of a cat, this would be it.

"Now then, where is Fenris?" he asked, eyes scouting the refuge camp. Hawke looked around. He was nowhere to be found. The log was empty. The fire had died. There was no trace of him nearby.

"Kitten, go find him. I'm in no mood to play games this morning. Find him and bring him here. This is urgent," ordered Danarius gruffly.

And off she went, joy spilling inside of her uncontrollably. This was it! This was her chance to go home with Leto! She thanked the Maker over in over in her prayers silently. What are the chances?! She just kept getting luckier and luckier!

_'Don't fuck this up. Please, Maker, don't let me fuck this up.'_

She pushed through the crowds of slaves, eyes searching meticulously for those familiar forest green eyes. Good Maker, why was he never there when you absolutely needed him? Hawke cursed as she nearly tripped over a rock in the middle of the dirt.

"Hello Mrs. Leto!" a familiar voice called to her. Hawke looked down and saw Marina, the blonde mage-child from the night before. The sight of her made Hawke smile and wave.

"Are you looking for Mr. Leto?" the little blonde girl asked, grinning. Hawke had to contain herself from madly shaking her head up and down. Yes! This is a time when she needed him the most – a chance for them to be free of this place!

"He's over there, by the fish vendor!" she pointed to Hawke's left. She knelt down and planted a kiss atop the child's head gratefully and hurried off.

_"Leto… Come on Leto… where can you be?"_ Hawke wondered, beginning to feel nervous. Her eyes dashed back and forth as she saw the man with a makeshift wooden display panel selling freshly-caught fish. Blue eyes, amber eyes, dark eyes, but no forest green.

He wasn't here.

She almost roared in frustration, trying to make her way through the crowd. Until she saw him.

Hawke stopped dead in her tracks when that familiar tuft of black hair came into view, with his back to her.

She found Fenris, deeply entrenched within the bodiless crowd of starving slaves, with a look on his face that she had never seen before, a look that would haunt her for many nights to come. The slaves in front of her were bustling back and forth, in a frightened frenzy, as his parched mouth hung open, and his eyes were half-lidded. At first Hawke thought that perhaps he was showing symptoms of dehydration. It wasn't rare to see him this way after all. That was before she turned to look at what he was seeing. Her blood ran icy once more, and she stumbled backwards, knocking over a slave carrying a basket of clothing.

On the dirty ground lay a bloody heap that was once a breathing, living being. A being that knew how to laugh and smile and cry and comfort. A being that now lay in a pool of blood coming from a knife wound in her stomach, with her skirt ripped mostly off, and a fearful expression permanently tattooed on her pretty face. Her lifeless, widened green eyes were fixated dead-straight on Hawke, with a couple of bloody, rusty nails pushed through the whites of her left eye by some sick bastard for sport. Hawke stopped breathing, and begged herself to look away, to break away from the gaze of the same woman who she saw getting raped just half a day before, the same woman whose cries Leto ignored. Through the drum of her heartbeat pounding in her ears, she heard Fenris whisper a single word that would end the calm before the storm.

"Mother…"

* * *

><p><strong>….well, shit.<strong>

**Thank you for reading. Please R&R if you have any comments or suggestions!**

**Also, I am hunting for a beta reader. If you enjoy this story thus far, are familiar with Dragon Age lore, have a good understanding of grammar and spelling, and have some spare time, I'd love to hear from you! Thank you, and stay tuned for the next chapter!**


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